Wounded
by GreenWood Elf
Summary: Faramir has a secret, one that sends him in search of a shadowed answer. But will the truth prove more dangerous than any illusion? PreLOTR
1. Chapter One The Lie

**Author's Note: **Welcome to my new fic "Wounded"! I have only a few notes before I begin. This story will be a multi-chapter fic, so before I continue to post the full of it, I would love to receive some feedback. Should I continue or no? Secondly, I am no Tolkien scholar. This story is a mixture of movie-verse, canon and just a dash of AU. I have done some research while writing this fic (see my notes below) and have used Tolkien's work as a guideline. Still, any mistakes in characterization or canon, while not intended, are my fault and my fault alone. Thirdly, I do not have a beta for this fic. I have revised it several times so any grammatical or spelling errors that appear in this fic are also my fault alone. I would really appreciate any constructive criticism/feedback you can offer. Thanks so much for reading!

**Disclaimer: **I claim no ownership of Tolkien's masterpiece.

**Wounded**

**Chapter One The Lie**

Lord Denethor took his breakfast in his private chambers. Leaning his wide shoulders against the back of his chair, he surveyed the platter of fruit laid before him. The peaches and pears were still chilled with a late frost and not overly ripe. He frowned and held up a single peach. The skin was hard, not supple.

Denethor grunted and tossed the offending fruit onto the floor. It rolled to the hearth and was soon devoured by an eager hound. Sunlight slipped in-between the drawn curtains and slanted across the middle of the oaken table. The pale light seemed to stretch the lines of worry that crossed his brow. His hair looked like ash mingled with soil.

The lord shook his withered mane once just as a low knock sounded upon the door. He glanced over the back of his chair.

"Enter."

A cool breeze swept the warmth from the room and Denethor wrapped his furs closer about him.

"Father." Boromir rested his hand on the arm of the chair and bowed his head.

"You rise early, my son."

"I have need of your counsel." Boromir dipped his head once more and then stood tall. He was garbed in a blue tunic and he crossed his arms behind his back, waiting.

Denethor made to speak when a second voice called from the door.

"Father, good morn."

Denethor gripped the sides of his chair and twisted about. Faramir stood by the doorway and there was a certain thinness to him that unnerved Denethor, more so than usual.

"And what causes you to disturb me?"

"I asked for him." Boromir gestured at his younger brother.

"Why?"

Faramir said nothing but kept his eye downcast.

"This matter concerns him as well," Boromir replied hastily.

Denethor's frown deepened. "Very well. Speak, if you will." He turned back to his meal and searched for a ripe pear.

Boromir stayed silent for a moment and Denethor felt his uneasiness. He sighed.

"Go on!"

Boromir nodded. "It is a strange thing, Father. This night past, I was roused just before dawn from a bewildering dream." He paused and glanced at Faramir, but his brother lingered by the door and would not speak.

"It beckoned to me and stayed firm in my mind even though my eyes were open and I did not slumber. Even now, I feel its call."

Denethor looked up at his eldest son. "Continue."

"It happened thusly. I stood in a field and the sky was grey with rain and yet no rain fell. The grass was green and trees of gold, mightier than any I have ever seen, enclosed the place. A stream ran through the field and I crossed it. The waters were cold and not yet so and a voice called to me."

Boromir faltered and knelt beside Denethor's chair. With his right hand, he grasped his Father's own. Denethor shivered as he felt the chill upon it.

"Resting upon a branch I found the great standard of Gondor, tattered and torn in many places. But as I touched it, the tears closed and it was made new once more, as of old."

Denethor leaned closer to his son. "Do you speak truthfully?"

"I do, Father," Boromir replied and he tightened his grip on the old man's hand. "And that is not the last of it! The voice continued to cry, to summon me hither. 'In Lorien', it said, 'Gondor shall be restored. In Lorien the glory of old shall return.'."

"The Woods of Lothlorien?" Denethor asked. His jaws, darkened with stubble, quivered.

"So I believe. As it is, Faramir has dreamt likewise." Boromir sat back on his heels and Faramir stepped forward, hesitantly.

Denethor stared at his youngest son. "Is this so?"

"Yes, Father. I have dreamt as Boromir said." A tremor touched Faramir's voice. Denethor raised a brow.

"You seem unsure."

"No, I am sure. It is as Boromir said."

"Then what causes such hesitancy?"

Faramir lifted his head slightly and he parted his lips to speak. Never before had the Steward seen his son so undone, so cowed. Faramir always strove present himself as lordly and gracious, much to Denethor's annoyance. Now he seemed…frightened.

"Speak, Faramir. My patience thins and I doubt your sincerity."

Boromir was pressing closer then, whispering into his Father's ear. "It has troubled him, my lord. He is young yet. Have pity. I speak for both of us, is my word not to be trusted?"

Denethor lifted his gaze from Faramir. "Your word is heeded."

"What think you, Father?" Boromir asked softly. "Is this a call to Lorien? Are we to seek it out and deliver unto glory Gondor? I do not know, for I possess not the gift of foresight. What think you?"

Denethor was trembling and he released his son's hand. The air suddenly seemed to close about him, to smother him and entrap him. What could this mean?

Vaguely, he pictured the White City of old, though under the rule of a mighty Steward not a king. Not a man of the North.

Black clouds ever-brewed over Mordor and throughout Gondor, the turning of time was felt. War was upon them. But what aid could be found in Elven lands?

And then he remembered it, a long-lost scroll unfurling in his mind. The Ring.

Rumor spoke of it and at times, the wise whispered its name. Had it fallen into the hands of the Elves? What would they make of it?

Denethor sighed and regarded his sons. "I have not the skill to interpret such tidings. Lothlorien is of a old, a realm of the Elves that rests upon the shores of the Great River. Little do I know of the place, but it is said that an Elf-witch dwells there and her craft is wondrous, if not perilous."

"We must seek it out then." Boromir stood. "Faramir and I. We shall go and find an answer to this riddle. Mayhap the fate of Gondor rests upon such a vague dream and mayhap not. But I would go with your leave, as would Faramir."

Denethor pressed his hand to his brow. "The way is dangerous. And those that return from Lorien are forever changed. I could not allow such a risk. An emissary perhaps, may be sent to-

"Please Father!" Boromir clutched the arm of Denethor's chair. "You must give us leave and we swear to return. Only for Gondor would we do such a duty."

Denethor looked long and carefully at both of his sons. Faramir had raised his head and at last returned his glance. Steel was in their eyes and hearts.

"Very well," he said at length. "But I do not give my leave happily. One should remain behind, Faramir, I think-

"No!" Boromir stood suddenly, his fists clenched at his sides. "Faramir must come or I shall not go. Together we travel."

Denethor sagged against his chair, weary. "If that is your demand."

"It is."

"Go then, but return swiftly and do not linger. Gondor awaits your aid."

Both Boromir and Faramir bowed to their father and thanked him. Denethor waved them away.

"Leave me, now."

They passed from the room and Denethor did not watch them go. Such tidings! He glanced at the platter of peaches and pears and found his appetite decidedly lacking.

* * *

"You lied." Faramir said once they had entered the long corridor outside Denethor's chambers. A small smile lifted his lips.

"You asked me too," Boromir replied and he leaned against the wall. "Though I do wish you could have waited until a more seemly hour." He yawned.

"Forgive me." Faramir placed his hands on his hips and paced. "Your powers of persuasion shock me. Father believed you."

"He usually does."

"I never thought of inventing a dream. It was rather creative."

"The more so, the better." Boromir watched the light from the sun climb through the window and skirt the wall. "He would never have given us leave, otherwise. Father puts no store in Mithrandir's word. What did he ask of you again?"

Faramir paused and looked away. His smile faded. "He bid me come to Lorien."

"Is that all?"

"Yes, so it would seem."

"It was a great request, then. Lothlorien is counted as a perilous place and I have no desire to tread there." Boromir paused and saw concern tighten Faramir's face. He smiled. "But I go with you, brother. If only to repay the debt I owe."

"Debt?" Faramir asked.

"Yes, it is too large to account for. But I recall one specific occasion when I bruised myself whilst scaling a fence in the stables. You were good enough not to tell Father then and now." He broke off and laughed. Faramir joined him and clapped his hand on his brother's shoulder.

"For a childhood mishap you would follow me into supposed doom? Though I think the land of Lorien compares little to our Father's wrath. Do not worry, though. Mithrandir spoke only of greatness in the Wood, not ruin."

"He gave you no explanation for such a journey?" Boromir stared at his brother and wondered at the way his shoulders stooped, the way his head bent to his chest. Faramir had changed of late, he decided. No longer proud he seemed, but humbled. "Faramir?"

"Mithrandir never provides a suitable explanation at the first," Faramir replied at last. He turned his back on his brother. "All is wrapped in riddles. But the tone of his note was urgent and I trust him."

"Might I see it?"

"See what?"

"The note from Mithrandir."

Faramir flinched. "I burned it, lest Father should discover it."

Boromir frowned. "Ah, very well." He turned on his heel and moved down the corridor. "Fear not!" he called after his brother. "I trust you."

* * *

Faramir let his brother go and felt his heart clench. Boromir stood strong and possessed the will he did not. Shame and guilt warmed Faramir's cheeks. His brother would have withstood temptation, his brother would have…

Faramir rested his head upon the wall and the cool stone soothed him. Boromir trusted him, he always had. And he had readily accepted the idea that Mithrandir had called them both to Lorien.

But he had lied.

No note had come to Faramir from the old wizard. There was no summons to Lorien, accept the pain that numbed him and the endless wonder. He needed an answer to his riddle and nothing more.

How long, he wondered, could he delay the truth from Boromir? What would happen if his brother discovered his lie within the next few days, or upon the road? What would he say to him when he did?

Nothing.

He did not know the truth himself, but possessed only a few scattered memories and those haunting watchwords.

_Beneath the trees and starlight. Find Lorien. Come in six months time. _

What a fool he was.

* * *

**Author's Note: **The scene between Lord Denethor and his sons is based on an excerpt from the "Council of Elrond" in the "Fellowship of the Ring". In the excerpt, Boromir relates to the Council that both he and his brother have been troubled by strange dreams and he was given leave by his father to travel to Rivendell to seek an answer.

Secondly, Boromir did not come to Lorien until "Fellowship" unlike what I have suggested in this fic. In the chapter "Lothlorien" he remarks that the Wood is perilous and he does not wish to enter. I have based Boromir's reluctance to journey to Lothlorien on this.

Thank you so much for reading! Please, review and share your thoughts with me.


	2. Chapter Two A Lorien Family

**Author's Note: **Hello everyone and welcome to chapter two of "Wounded"! This chapter actually takes place in the woods of Lothlorien and breaks from Faramir and Boromir. But don't worry, the sons of the Steward will be back for the next chapter. I would like to say thanks to everyone who read and reviewed the last chapter, MerryKK, Nari-chan SND, CaptiveFaRaMiRheart, and Syntyche. Thank you all so much, you have truly made my New Year happy! As always, I do not have a beta for this fic and even though it has been proofread several times, I am sure I did not catch all my typos. Any mistakes that appear in canon are my fault and my fault alone. I hope you enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **I claim no ownership of Tolkien's masterpiece.

**Chapter Two A Lorien Family**

**One Month Later**

Faeleth dipped her silver needle into the folds of linen resting upon her lap. A delicate pattern, one of blue birds and golden elanor, soon adorned the hem of the fabric. She smiled and held it up. The light of a dull afternoon sun mingled with the leaves overhead.

Perfect, she thought. Or almost so.

Her young son, Pelilas sat at her knee, his attention fixed upon his own craft. In the elfling's hands was a small knife and he worked it skillfully about a block of wood. The leg of a horse formed, followed by a shapely neck.

"It's lovely, isn't it Naneth?" he asked and held up his work for her inspection.

Faeleth took the tiny treasure in her hands. "Indeed. So very lovely. Will you show it to Ada?"

Pelilas' eyes widened with glee and he fiddled with an errant braid brushing his cheek. "Yes!" he bounced on the balls of his feet. "Yes! Will he like it?"

"Of course." Faeleth stood and laid her needlework aside. From her place on the balcony of her talan, she could see her neighbors moving about. Some milled in the gardens below and spoke in delicate whispers which the sweet air of Caras Galadhon echoed. Others ascended the spiraling stairs up to their own homes while singing the old songs of minstrels. To the east, twilight beckoned.

"Come." She took the elfling's hand and ushered him inside. "You must wash." Pelilas dragged his feet and snatched up his wooden horse with his free hand.

"Later." He pouted and clung to Faeleth's gown.

"Now."

Pelilas did not think to argue once more. He marched into the small room off the kitchen in a manner that so resembled his father. Faeleth stifled a laugh. Haldir would make a warden out of him yet.

Satisfied with the sounds of splashing water coming from the small room, Faeleth turned her attention to the food laid upon the table. Wine was poured into each goblet and she lit the lanterns that swayed from the ceiling. Inviting breezes whisked through the talan. Faeleth paused to smooth the front of her gown and arrange her fair hair.

Pelilas emerged from the wash room, his horse tucked under his arm. Like a sharp sentry, he posted himself besides the door and pressed his ear to it.

"Footsteps!" he cried after several minutes, then frowned. "Many footsteps!"

"Haldir must have brought his brothers." Faeleth dashed into pantry and fetched two more goblets.

"And Aunt Aniror too!"

"Oh dear." Faeleth was halfway between the pantry and the kitchen with yet another goblet when the door opened. Pelilas did not even given his father time to step over the threshold.

"Look! Isn't it lovely, Ada? I made it. You can have it, if you like."

Haldir caught the elfling in his arms and kissed the top of his hair. "Let me see." He inspected the tiny horse in his left hand and chuckled. "A fine craftsman you are, Pelilas. You best Celebrimbor, I think."

"Here, let me look." And the horse passed hands from Haldir, to Orophin who stood just behind him and finally reached Rumil.

"What a pretty little thing."

Faeleth kissed her husband. "Good eve, Haldir. How do you fare?"

But he could not answer. A fourth Elf slipped through the door, eyebrows arched.

"Your husband is fortunate, sister. Very fortunate. Orcs passed near the borders this day."

"Aunt Aniror!" Pelilas leapt from his father's arm and wrapped his arms about her legs. "Tell me a story. You promised last time and I fell asleep. Tell me a story!"

"No stories child!" Aniror scowled. "I have none."

"Please?"

"No!" She brushed him off and moved into the kitchen. Pelilas hobbled behind her, more than accustomed to his Aunt's caustic ways. With a wicked smile, he bobbed up and down, trying to catch the end of her plait with his fingers.

Faeleth tore her eyes away from the two and stared at her husband. "Orcs, Haldir?" Worry darkened her grey eyes. "Where did they come from?"

"From Moria, perhaps, that fell realm," Orophin said with a lowered voice. He kissed his sister-in-law in greeting. "They were not foolish enough to draw near or so the border guards say. Scouts were sent to trail their course. Haldir made sure of that."

"They grow bold," Rumil said and he passed into the kitchen. "Too bold these days. It chills the blood."

"Haldir?" Fear gnawed at Faeleth and she clutched her husband's arm.

"Worry not. It is not as uncommon as you think," he replied and offered her a reassuring smile. She kissed his jaw.

"Oh, but it is." Aniror already had a goblet trapped between her long fingers and she drank deeply. "Their numbers grow and dark worries now haunt the Nimrodel."

Faeleth sighed. Her older sister was never one to offer comfort but expected to receive it tenfold. Selfish, some called her. But most thought her ambitious. Faeleth decided it was a mixture of the two, not yet dangerous, but corrupting.

Haldir glanced at Aniror. "Long have I watched the borders and such have I seen before. There is no cause for alarm."

Aniror returned his glance with a harsh glare and Faeleth felt her chest tighten. Some amount of tension always existed between her husband and her sister, though she tried to ignore it. Rumor had it that Aniror wanted his position as Captain of the Galadhrim, being one of the most senior wardens in Lothlorien herself. Haldir, however, was not ready to retire.

"No cause for alarm." Aniror set down her empty goblet. "Not for those with lesser minds, perhaps, but I would advise strict vigilance. Increase the numbers of guards that-ow!" Pelilas had succeeded in grabbing a strand of her hair. Aniror batted him away.

"Malicious minion!" she spat and he only laughed. "Mind yourself!"

Faeleth noticed her sister's anger climbing. She grabbed Pelilas by the wrist and guided him to his seat at Rumil's left.

"He is only an elfling, as you were once."

Aniror said nothing but sank into a chair.

"Would you like to join us for dinner?" Faeleth asked lamely. Her sister had invited herself already.

"Very well. Thank you."

Haldir took his seat by the head of the table and Faeleth fetched more wine.

"The borders are well prepared for an attack, any attack," Haldir said. He was determined to have the final word. "Certainly you must agree, Aniror?"

"Yes." But Aniror would not meet his eyes, just as she dared not tempt his wrath. She kept her narrow face bent towards the green tablecloth and her fingers traced the patterns so carefully sewn by Faeleth. "What food have you, sister?"

* * *

All talk of Orcs and attacks ceased as the meal progressed. The easy rhythm of conversation soon floated over the table and Pelilas galloped his horse over the tablecloth as if it were a large pasture. Only once did Faeleth think it scold him when the horse's tail came too close to Orophin's wine goblet.

Haldir spoke of pleasant things and did not mention the business of the borders. Faeleth knew he liked to keep peace in his home and talk of peace fostered it. Unlike her sister, Haldir was not battle-eager.

Aniror rarely spoke but leaned against her chair and rubbed her forearm. Faeleth did not trouble her, but every now and then stole glances at her from across the table. They got along in an odd way. Aniror often scolded her younger sister for marrying and living a languid life. And yet, she sought her advice and Faeleth gave it freely. She did not believe her sister meant half of the cruel things she said, or so she hoped.

The sky darkened and the lanterns glowed. Halfway through the meal, a length of rain fell and then stopped. Pelilas leaned sleepily against his chair.

"A story, Aunt Aniror?"

Aniror glanced up at him. "Not tonight," she said.

Tears welled in Pelilas' weary eyes and only Rumil managed to avert disaster. He swept the elfling up into his arms and carried him out of the kitchen.

"I have one for you, Pelilas, a grand tale that Aunt Aniror would _never _tell. Will you hear it?"

Pelilas' response was cut off as he was borne into his bedroom. Faeleth stared at her sister.

"You could not spare him one tale?"

Aniror shrugged and her shoulders arched beneath the gray cloth of her tunic. "I have none."

"Do not think to lie," Faeleth said and Aniror raised her eyebrows. "You have just returned from the Wild and you have nothing to tell him?"

"No."

"Could you not have invented a fiction, then?"

"I do not lie," Aniror replied smugly. "Might I have some more wine?"

"Not tonight," Faeleth mimicked her sister's earlier tones. This time, Haldir disrupted the ensuing argument.

"There is a knock upon the door," he said and rose to his feet.

"News of the Orcs, I would wager my life on it!" Aniror called after him.

"Nonsense." Orophin smirked at her from across the table. "They were far from the Wood this morn. Why should they return?"

"Orcs are not sensible. Why shouldn't they return?" Aniror said. "I almost hope for it. The slaughter of foul creatures does much to alleviate boredom."

Haldir had opened the door and was speaking to a guard of the city. Faeleth left the table and glanced over her husband's shoulder. They did not seem concerned.

"Are they expected?" Haldir asked.

"Yes, Captain. The Lady has said so. They are to be permitted into our lands. She requested you meet with them and guide them into the Caras Galadhon."

"Of course. I shall come along shortly."

The guard left and Haldir turned back to the kitchen.

"No Orcs." His smile was wide and Aniror scowled anew. "Men have come, men of Gondor."

"Of Gondor?" Faeleth asked. "They have traveled far indeed. What could-

But a clatter by the table interrupted her. Aniror had knocked over her empty wine goblet.

"And no lowly men are they," Haldir continued. "I have their names, Boromir and Faramir, sons of the Steward."

"Minas Tirith must be in great need." Orophin said. "Men such as they never come to Lorien, unless pressured by the utmost need."

"No, I think not. The Lady says they were sent for." Haldir placed his hand on Faeleth's shoulder. "I must go. She wishes me to guide them."

Orophin left the room to fetch Rumil.

"Take care," Faeleth warned. The news of Orcs unsettled her still.

"They are but two men," Haldir chuckled and then glanced at Aniror. "Come along, now."

"I shall stay here." Aniror did not move.

"We have been ordered to meet the sons of the Steward."

"Not I."

"Aniror." Faeleth started forward.

"I shall stay here."

"Never mind it now." Haldir shook his head and his brothers rejoined him. "I will return soon."

* * *

**Author's Note: **So what do you think of Aniror? She is not a very nice person, er, Elf. I have to say I do not believe that Tolkien intended all of his Elves to be "perfect" Otherwise, he wouldn't have written the Silmarillion. So don't expect perfect Elves in this story. But if you are open to grasping, cold and just plain mean characters, you might like Aniror. Anyway, evil characters are just too much fun to write!

I have refrained from using Elvish phrases in this story as I feel they bog the reader down. All conversations take place in Elvish, since the Rangers of Ithilien spoke Sindarin.

As to how long it took Boromir and Faramir to arrive in Lorien, I have very roughly estimated the time period to be about a month and a half. However, since geography and math are my worst subjects, I am probably most certainly wrong.

Thank you so much for reading! Please, take a moment to review.


	3. Chapter Three A Welcome

**Author's Note: **Hello and welcome to chapter three of "Wounded"! I must say I am absolutely thrilled by the reviews this story has received. I want to thank you all, **MerryKK**, **Ki-ta**, **Nari-chan SND**, **CaptiveFaRaMiRheart, Sarahbarr17, **and **Bourgeois Sounds Swell**. Thank you! Your feedback means so much to me. Now, as always, I do not have beta and even though I have proofread this chapter several times, I am sure I have not caught all my mistakes. Any errors that appear are my fault and my fault alone. As you know, I am not a Tolkien scholar, so any mistakes I have made in canon are also my fault. I hope you enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **I claim not ownership of Tolkien's masterpiece.

**Chapter Three A Welcome**

Faramir knew nothing but darkness. And fragrant breezes. And the keen whining of foreign instruments that swept about him. He touched his face and felt the soft warmth of the blindfold.

It should have been a worrisome experience, to be blinded and guided through a strange land, one known for mysterious peril. But to his surprise, he noticed the weariness slip from his limbs and a pleasant calmness wash over him. Perhaps this was the magic of the Wood.

Boromir sat beside him. This he knew not by touch or sight, but by the steady sound of his breathing and the occasional mumble.

"Where do they keep us?" he asked once and Faramir could find no answer.

"I know not," he said. His brother fell back into silence and Faramir heard him shift, his chain mail a dim tinkle against the wind.

They had come upon Lorien after a month's long journey and more than once, Faramir had been grateful for Boromir's company. Orcs mingled amongst the brush and the shores of the Anduin were haunted by other beasts. Night did not pass without some dark terror. Together bow and sword sung and by day, careful stealth guarded them.

But they had come to Lorien and Faramir did not know whether to feel relieved or terrified. Boromir had yet to discover his lie. And he did not dare relate his secret.

What would Boromir think? Surely, he would find him foolish, if not utterly weak. Faramir did not think he could withstand his brother's questions. He had led him into danger to pursue folly, his folly. Perhaps he should have come alone.

Faramir dug his fingers into the earth and tilled the cool soil with his hands. In the distance, he heard the muted whispers of the Elves. Their language was strange even to his ear. Upon the eastern edge of Lorien, the Elves had come upon them. Stern, yet courteous, they seized their weapons and horses and blindfolded them. Boromir had protested at first and Faramir did not think he would forget the look of fear that traced his brother's features. Fear that he had caused.

And what was he to say to the Elves? He had no summons from Mithrandir or any good cause to be in their land. A memory alone he possessed, which existed as a misted dream, shapeless, boundless and meaningless.

Why had he brought them here?

Boromir sighed suddenly and Faramir sensed his exhaustion.

"We are guarded as the Enemy," he said.

Once more, Faramir searched for a suitable reply but found none. An Elf laughed.

"Forgive us. You are to be treated as friends henceforth."

The blinds were removed. Faramir blinked. The silver glow of a clear eve surrounded him. A tall Elf stood just before them.

"I am Haldir, the Captain of the Galadhrim." He rested his palm against his chest and extended it in greeting. Faramir climbed to his feet and Boromir followed. A trio of Elves flanked Haldir.

"Welcome to the woods of Lothlorien, sons of the Steward." He spoke in the common tongue, tainted with a Elven light accent.

Faramir bowed his head but Boromir could not refrain from gazing about. Great trees enclosed them in a solitary glade and only a hint of the heavens could be seen above. Through the leaves there whispered the sounds of joyous voices and song and the air was sweet.

"We thank you," Faramir said in Sindarin and Haldir smiled.

"Our journey has not been without plight," Boromir said. He shifted closer to his brother and regarded the Elves with caution in his glance.

"And your days here shall be free of it," Haldir replied. "The great Lady of our Wood welcomes you. It seems she has indeed expected you. Come, I shall guide you to her."

Haldir made to turn away, his Elven companions stepped to the side. Shock curled in the pit of Faramir's stomach and threatened to overwhelm him.

"The Lady expects us?" he asked

"Yes." Haldir glanced over his shoulder. "You will be brought into our city, Caras Galadhon. There she dwells with our Lord."

Faramir managed a nod and Haldir turned away once more. What magic was this?

Boromir was at his side then and he wore a weak smile.

"It seems as though Mithrandir did will to summon you," he said and walked forth. Faramir could only follow, trepidation marking his every step.

* * *

Faeleth shut the door to Pelilas' tiny room. Her son was asleep upon his bed. Dreams danced in his eyes. She smiled. At least he knew peace.

Back to the balcony she went where Aniror still sat, her knees clenched to her chest. Faeleth's smile melted.

Aniror looked….tense.

Never a good thing, her reason said and she agreed. Never a good thing at all. Heightened nerves made Faeleth's limbs feel watery and she found her way to a small chair by her sister's.

"Aniror?"

"Hush."

"Aniror?"

"Hold your tongue or I shall rip it from your mouth!"

Faeleth fell silent and rested her chin on her hands. Aniror's warnings did not shock her. As elflings, they often quarreled and her older sister made sure to announce every evil she could inflict upon her.

And Faeleth knew she would not hesitate to fulfill her threats. Aniror never did.

They sat for a moment in silence and Faeleth's keen hearing noticed the sound of her son's breathing. She relaxed and focused on the simple sweetness of it. The air stirred and sighed along with him.

"Vala!" Suddenly, Aniror was on her feet and over by the balcony's edge. She curled her fingers about the railing, her knuckles white.

"What is it?" Faeleth forgot her imposed silence and stood. But Aniror's sharp glance drove her back into her chair.

"I heard something," she said at length. Her head was tilted to the side and her plait dangled over her shoulder. "By the Great Gates."

"Orcs?" Faeleth asked.

"No, of course not." Aniror shook her head, hurried back to her seat and hovered by the side of it. She did not look pleased.

"What then?"

Her sister did not answer. Instead she looked away and for the first time in many years, Faeleth saw fear twist her countenance.

She clutched her knees. "Aniror, what is wrong?"

"Nothing that I can tell." Her response was strangled.

"Oh, but I can tell."

"Spare me your foresight."

Aniror's anger had returned. This time, Faeleth did not back down.

"I would rather have it known now," she said. "I shall known it soon, when you come to me begging for aid."

"I want nothing from you. I _need _nothing from you."

Faeleth leaned back and felt the light of the stars on her brow. Emboldened, she continued. "Yes, I believe you do. You do no good to hide and cower."

Aniror perched her hand on her hip. "I am your elder. Have you no respect that bars you from questioning my business?"

"Respect? What deeds have you done to invoke my respect? I recall many incidents. Disobeying our Naneth, quarreling with almost every one of your comrades and Erthor. What of him?"

But she had gone too far. Faeleth tensed once more and her sister's face blackened.

"Enough!"

"Aniror, please. I did not-

"You knew your words before you spoke them."

Faeleth leaned forward and tried to touch her sister's hand. But Aniror flinched and recoiled as if she were no better than a mindless Orc.

"Please," Faeleth begged. "I should never have mentioned his name."

"And you have." Aniror turned away and began to pace, her steps short and jerky.

"It was wrong of me." Faeleth rose and made to follow her. But Aniror stopped and spun about. Her eyes were wide and wild.

"How can you…" Aniror broke off mid-sentence and her head tilted to the side once more. Faeleth listened as well, but heard nothing. The look on her sister's face terrified her.

"Aniror, _what is it_?"

But the older elleth pushed past her and lunged for the door. "I must go."

"Aniror!" Faeleth called after. She received no response.

* * *

They were led along a stone path that hemmed a great hill. A fosse lay to the left and only once Faramir stopped to gaze into the ditch.

"What is this?" he asked. He had not spoken much, but was a willing captive to the wonder of Lorien.

Haldir stopped by his side as did Boromir.

"The only unmoving guard of this city," the Elf said and he pointed to a green wall that bordered the fosse. "None of the Enemy have ever dared to surmount it and with the blessings of the Vala, perhaps they never will."

Faramir nodded but said nothing. They continued on in silence.

The stone path soon ended by a bridge that crossed the fosse and led to the gates.

"Behold." Haldir stopped and raised his hand. "Not many of your kin have viewed such a sight, except those Men from the North and rarely now do they tread here. These are the Great Gates of Lorien. Pass through them freely."

As if he had spoken a command, the gates opened for Haldir and he walked through. Faramir made to follow but Boromir balked.

"None that enter leave unchanged," he said and worry tugged at the lines on his brow.

Faramir stiffened. Guilt and fear warred within him.

"Then we change together," he said at last. Boromir seemed reassured.

"No other way should I wish it." His brother stepped past him and walked through the gates, confident. Faramir tried to draw strength from him.

Haldir led them through the city, accompanied by three other Elves.

"Is this where you dwell?" Boromir asked and he looked around doubtfully. No houses could be seen.

Haldir caught his confusion and laughed. "Raise your eyes, friend." He pointed above his head and through the shadows, the brothers noticed the bottom of a platform. Ladders and staircases wrapped about the mighty boles of the trees.

"The Tree People," Faramir muttered. Boromir continued to search the leaves for a clear sight of one of the strange platforms.

For a while longer they walked and the hill sloped upward. At last they came to a clearing and a tree that stood taller than any they had seen. Upon its boughs was perched a large dwelling. Haldir ushered them over to a ladder.

"Our Lord and Lady make their home here," he said. "You must climb."

The brothers obeyed. As they ascended, Faramir felt his heart scale his chest and lodge in his throat. What would he say to the Lady?

It seemed a shameful thing now and perhaps it was. He imagined himself standing before her and sputtering though his account complete with every sordid detail. No, that would not do.

They came to the top of the ladder and beheld what looked like a great hall. The air seemed heavier to Faramir and thick with something he could not recognize nor understand. For a brief moment, his mind settled and he felt calmed. But only for a moment.

An Elf entered the hall, tall and slender and clad in white. Her gold hair swam down to her waist. She smiled with both joy and courtesy.

Beside him, Boromir muttered something and Faramir managed an awkward bow. A light surrounded the Elf, pure and good. At once, Faramir's fear of Lorien faded. The Lady continued to smile.

"Welcome." She held out her arms and the white cloth of her sleeves billowed like wind-blown clouds. "I am Galadriel, Lady of Light, Lady to the Galadhrim. Welcome."

"My lady." Boromir bowed now and Faramir succumbed to the urge to repeat the action.

"I am Faramir, son of Denethor, Steward of Gondor," he said though he knew no introduction was needed. "This is my elder brother, Boromir of Gondor. We have come to Lorien…" He paused and tried again. "We have come to Lorien to…"

The Lady disrupted his babbling with a laugh. "I know why you have come," she said.

And then in his mind, her voice echoed. _I know why you have come, Faramir. Fear not. _

A pleasant tingle filled his body and no longer did he feel ashamed.

"Your journey has draped you in weariness," the Lady continued aloud. "And you shall take your rest here and have your riddles answered."

The brothers gave their thanks and the Lady turned from them, her gaze finding Haldir who stood close by.

"Captain," she said. "Is the sister of your wife within the city?"

Haldir's eyes widened briefly, but he nodded. "Yes, my lady, I believe it to be so."

"Good." The Lady returned her glance to Faramir. "Bring her to me."

* * *

**Author's Note: **The description of Lorien, including the empty ditch, the wall and the gates is based on Tolkien's description in "Fellowship".

Thanks so much for reading! Please, take the time to review and tell me what you think.


	4. Chapter Four Found

**Author's Note: **Hello and welcome to chapter four of "Wounded"! This is the chapter that changes everything, crosses the Rubicon if you will and I was very hesitant in posting it. An AU plot line will be followed in this story, though I promise to try to keep everything else canon or as close to it as possible. I would like to thank everyone who read and reviewed the last chapter, **Ki-ta**, **MerryKK**, **Nari-chan SND**, **Awen1923**, **Sarahbarr17**, and **childofGod-4ever**. Thank you all so much! As always, I do not have a beta for this fic, so any mistakes that appear in canon, spelling and grammar are my fault and my fault alone. I hope you enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **I claim no ownership of Toklien's masterpiece

**Chapter Four Found**

Haldir scowled. His evening had not gone according to plan. As the Lady had requested, he had guided the two men into the city and now as the Lady requested, he was searching for Aniror.

But Aniror did not want to be found.

He had returned to his talan to find her missing and Faeleth heatedly remarked that her sister was "vexed". Vexed was never an agreeable term as far as Haldir was concerned, especially when tied with his sister-in-law.

She had her talents, that he would admit. For many years they guarded the borders together and she watched him rise in rank, rather jealously. Of late, however, that certain jealousy seemed to unfold into open ambition. Aniror wanted to outrank him or at the very least, be considered his equal.

And she would have, he thought as he swung around the bole of a mallorn. Had it not been for her idiocy some months ago.

Night fell and the shadows were thick. Above, lanterns shone thinly from the branches and the air warmed. A yellow moon rose and perched itself high in the heavens and Haldir walked in the light of it.

Where was she?

He did not wish to keep the Lady waiting nor the newly arrived guests, though he could not guess at why Aniror was wanted. She did not make for pleasant company.

Haldir paused. The Great Gates loomed before him, flanked by two sentinels. He could see the gray of their garb and hear their breezy whispers. A third guard emerged from the dark and hurried to the Gates.

Aniror.

He quickened his pace.

"Aniror! Aniror, wait!"

She did not stop like he had expected, but rather walked onward.

"Aniror, I must speak with you."

Her back stiffened. She did not turn around.

Haldir frowned. She never made things easy. He broke into a run and caught up with her.

"Did you not hear me calling?" he peered into her face. "The Lady wishes your presence, I know not why."

Aniror would not look at him, but she shook her head. "My apologies, Haldir. I must leave the city at once."

He stared at her and she hunched her shoulders. "Your Lady has called for you."

"I am sure she will understand my leave-taking." Aniror began to walk to the Gates once more. Her voice faded, like the furthest reaches of a swift stream. "I must leave. It is urgent."

Haldir swallowed a curse. "Aniror!" He reached forward and grabbed her shoulder. She flailed and struggled against him. "You will come when your Lady calls."

"As it seems to me, Captain," she replied and venom slithered into her voice, "you alone have called for me, not my Lady. Unless she does, I have no reason to heed your summons."

Haldir froze. She never used his title, never. For her it was the mark of his dominance, his gain and her failure. He tightened his grip on her shoulder.

"Ever were you irrational, but now I fear you slip into madness. Lady Galadriel has called for you, warden. Make haste."

She stared at him and in her eyes he saw her questioning mind. Aniror challenged him, weighed his authority against her own and dared him to debate her.

Not this time.

Haldir glared at her and let cold fury enter his gaze and voice. "You will go to the Lady at once or I shall drag you there myself, warden. Do as _I _command."

For a long moment Aniror continued to stare at him, but at last she faltered and looked away.

"Very well." She shook him off and walked back towards the heart of the city. Haldir watched her go, determined to trace her steps lest she decide to shirk his order.

But she had not gone far before she turned about and searched for him in dark.

"Haldir?" her voice sounded dim. "Have either of the men from Gondor asked after me?"

He raised a brow. "No, only the Lady."

Aniror did not answer him, but stole away in worried silence to Galadriel's dwelling.

* * *

"Why did you tarry for so long?"

Aniror did not dare raise her eyes. Instead, she stared at the floor, the thin wooden planks that stretched across the antechamber in the Lady's talan. They were grey with the light of eve upon them, but pure white when the afternoon's sun climbed. She shifted and her movement was followed by a muted creak. The Lady's glance was upon her.

"I beg your forgiveness, my lady," she said and wished her voice would not shake so. "I thought Captain Haldir, I…I thought he only jested. I did not believe you expected my presence so swiftly."

She heard the Lady's gown whisper, as if Galadriel had stepped forward. Aniror braced herself and waited for the cool voice to enter her mind, to prod in the dark places she wished to forever conceal.

But no one could hide from Galadriel.

To her surprise, the Lady of Light simply sighed. "I meant not your delay in coming to me, Aniror. No, I speak of your time in the Wild. Too long you dallied there last fall. Why?"

Dread burrowed into Aniror's heart and the memories came swift, unbidden.

Green grass in a green glade, bright with the early frost and the late dew of summer past….

How much did the Lady know? Aniror dared to raise her eyes and she stared at Galadriel's face, searching for an answer.

She found only calmness. The Lady's emotions were well-hidden, unlike her own.

Aniror rubbed her left forearm. "My time spent in the Wild was lengthened due to many unforeseen obstacles. Certainly, my Lady knows of such perils. I could do nothing to stop them, nor avoid them. And I returned to Lorien by the most direct route with all haste."

It was lie. She did not tell the Lady that she had tarried long, that she had traveled by old paths hoping to delay, hoping to escape the doom that would fall upon her.

Galadriel smiled. "I know much in the way of peril, warden. And it burdens my heart with sorrow. But what you have done only brews it. You have been foolish, Aniror."

Her skin tingled and Aniror felt the Lady's magic thick about her. Could she know? Could she know of _him_?

"You have forced my hand in many ways," Galadriel continued and her smile saddened. "I would have bestowed upon you much honor and your rank should have risen to the highest. Yet it is your folly that stops me."

"I…I understand, Lady." And she did. In many ways she did not deserve the promotion she sought, and yet…

The Lady turned and a cool breeze swept through the windows and into the talan. All fear and tension rushed away. Aniror breathed deeply.

"Come now, warden," the Lady said and she raised a white hand. "There is much to be done this night."

* * *

They had been brought to a small chamber, with food set upon a wide table and chairs padded with furs. A pitcher and basin stood nearby and as Faramir washed his face with the cold water, he felt his mind clear.

Somewhere in the distance, an Elf sang and the breeze brought the words to him. He could understand little of it, but the voice was pleasant to hear, if not sorrowful.

"I wonder what it is they lament," Boromir said after they had eaten. "This place is both good and woeful, isn't it?"

"Yes," Faramr replied and together they sat for a long while. But sleep began to tempt Faramir and his eyes closed. Boromir tapped his arm.

"Do you think we shall be provided with beds?" he asked. "Or do these Elves sleep in their dining halls?"

Faramir forced his eyes open and was about to answer when the door swept open. The Lady entered, unattended except for a single Elf, another female.

The Lady began to speak, but Faramir did not hear her. His gaze reached over her shoulder and found the face of the Elf woman. She had light hair and narrow features. Her eyes were blue.

He started forward then and did not heed Boromir's questioning tones. This Elf, this female, he knew her.

_Beneath the trees and starlight. Find Lorien. Come in six months time._

What words could he say to her? He did not even know her name.

Galadriel smiled and stepped to the side as Faramir drew near.

"This is Aniror," she said. "She has been my warden for some years." A pause. "Do you know her, Captain Faramir?"

"Yes." The word escaped him and his lungs filled with air, as though he had not breathed in ages. He reached for her. "Aniror, Aniror. I have come as you asked and oh, I thought I should never find you."

But the Elf did not smile as he did. Instead, she pulled back, frightened.

"Aniror?" He could not understand her actions. Why such hesitancy? He had never known her to be hesitant before, never. Faramir stepped forward and took her hands in his. She shuddered.

"My Lady, I do not know this man!" Her voice was high, not soft as it had been, not gentle.

"You are mistaken then," Faramir replied. "You know me, Aniror, how can you not? I am Faramir, the man you met in Ithilien. You must remember. You…you must."

She shook her head. "My Lady, this man is a fool. I know him not-

"I am no fool!" Frustration filled him and he glanced back at Galadriel. "I know this Elf! She has a scar upon her left forearm as though an arrow had pierced it some time ago. I know this Elf! She is…she is my lover."

Aniror shrieked and tore away from him, as though his touch pained her.

"I do not know this man." Tears threatened to master her voice and she looked wildly about the room. "I do not know him!" And she fled.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Well, you obviously see the slight leave of canon I took. But I do have a few notes on it.

Firstly, we all know that Faramir falls in love with and marries Eowyn. Now I love Eowyn as a character, but I wanted to experiment with the character of Faramir a little bit in this story. (Hopefully Tolkien doesn't mind) He certainly isn't a character who would run off to Lorien for a silly reason, so more of that will be explained later on. Also, that doesn't mean that Faramir will "end up" with Aniror in anyway. This story isn't necessarily a romantic story, or a pairing, unless you consider a pairing full of backstabbing, lying and cruelty.

Secondly, Elves obviously do not have "summer flings". I have done some research on Elves and how they conduct romantic relationships and I will tell you now that what Aniror has done is very atypical. But more of that will be explained later on and I'd rather no give away the plot or bore you all to death.

Also, it is very very rare for any Elf to have a romantic relationship with a human though I am not sure Faramir and Aniror's relationship can be termed romantic. More on that later as I am sure you all have had enough of my rambling.

Thanks so much for taking the time to read! Please, leave a review and tell me your thoughts.


	5. Chapter Five Impulsion

**Author's Note: **Hello and welcome to chapter five of "Wounded"! I would like to thank **MerryKK** and **Awen1923 **for taking the time review. As always, I do not have a beta for this fic and though I have taken care to proofread it many times, I am sure I have not caught all my errors. Any mistakes that appear in canon, spelling or grammar are my fault and fault alone. I hope you enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **I claim no ownership of Tolkien's masterpiece.

**Chapter Five Impulsion**

"I lied to you brother," Faramir said and watched as Boromir turned away. They stood within a small chamber the Lady's servants had shown them, just off the dining hall. Two beds draped in silver silks and guarded by thin curtains furnished the room. Outside a long a branch curved upwards.

"Would that you had told me," Boromir said at length. He shrugged out of his heavy over-tunic and stooped to undo his boots.

Faramir could not bear to look at him. He walked to the window and leaned against the frame. His hands still trembled. Could Aniror have forgotten him?

He remembered the certain look of fear in her eyes…and recognition. She remembers me, Faramir tried to convince himself. She must. Behind him, Boromir sighed and Faramir stiffened. His brother was displeased, angry.

Faramir folded his arms. No chill resided in the air, but a dreadful coldness settled within him. The months of pondering, the terrible longing was at once replaced with heavy grief.

What had he done?

"What happened?" Boromir's voice sounded stern, but curiosity bordered his tone. Faramir turned from the window.

"I am not sure I can tell."

"Then tell what you can." Boromir lowered himself onto the bed and stared at his younger brother. Faramir met his gaze. It was a tale he did not know how to begin and did not wish to end.

"Last fall," he said and took a deep breath. "Last fall it happened. I had gone from Henneth Annun alone one night, just below into the wood. In a small clearing I found her, with her hood cast back and her fair hair resting upon her shoulders. She smiled and I knew she was of the Elven kind."

He paused and wondered how to phrase things best. Boromir waved his hand. "I understand, go on."

Faramir nodded and relished in the relief that coursed through him. "She promised me things and I believed her. I longed for her each night and we met in the woods for some time, how long I can not tell. But when winter crept over Ithilien she departed and commanded me to come to her. Find Lorien, she said. Come in six months time. And so I have."

Boromir continued to stare at him, his gaze hard. Faramir shook his head. "That Elf, that Aniror. I know her not. She was not courteous, but cruel and cold I think. I do not know her. It was wrong of me to come."

"And to leave Gondor on a mindless errand," Boromir muttered. He stood and Faramir shrank back in embarrassment. "It is obvious she employed some enchantment on you. Oh brother, what a fool you are."

Faramir sighed. "I know."

"Why did you ask me to accompany you? Why did you ask me to leave our people when their need is most great?"

Faramir did not answer at once. Boromir seemed to lose his patience.

"Have you little sense? None at all, I think. Love born to coldness will only shrivel and die. Do you not see it?"

"Yes!" Faramir had not meant to shout but his emotions came spilling out. Black anger coiled in his breast along with betrayal. His brother thought he was foolish and the lady he had so long pined for had discarded him. He had been cast off as meaningless, a thing that was once toyed with and then forgotten.

How could it all have gone so wrong?

Suddenly, to his great astonishment, Boromir began to laugh. Faramir gaped at him.

"And I was thoughtless enough to follow you, you trickster. What a merry band of fools we must be to these Elves, even if the Lady is gracious." He stepped forward and placed his hand on his brother's shoulder.

Faramir managed a smile. Boromir had always tried to comfort him in times of despair. When as child he awoke at night and cried for his mother, Boromir would soothe him with stories. Or when his father found some cause to scold him, Boromir bolstered his confidence with encouraging words.

And now, amidst his folly, amidst his ruin, Boromir stayed by his side.

"I promised to repay my debt," he said. "And it is not for me to set its course. I will stay with you brother, for a time and then return home. Is that agreeable?"

"Yes," Faramir breathed. Boromir drew away and collapsed on the bed.

"Sleep, brother," he mumbled. "Our journey has been perilous enough."

Faramir watched as Boromir's breathing evened and he slept. But he could find no rest. Pacing back to the window, he studied the great branch outside and his heart sighed. What of Aniror?

_Fear not, son of Gondor_, Galadriel's voice whispered in his mind and he felt his grief lessen.

* * *

Faeleth drew back the curtains and sighed. Cool, morning air leaked into the talan and the sky was white with clouds. Haldir put his hand on her shoulder.

"I am sorry," he said softly.

Faeleth shook her head. "And I am shamed."

"Why?"

"She is my sister and I am bound to her." Faeleth moved into the main room. Pelilas still slumbered and for that she was grateful. She did not want her son privy to such…sordidness.

"Not to her deeds." Haldir followed his wife, hands folded behind his back. "What she has done has no bearing upon you."

Faeleth glanced down at a carved bench that stood in the main room. Blue cloth covered it, the seams stitched with silver. Thin threads and beads wrapped about the hem. Aniror had scoffed at her handiwork, called it useless and Faeleth had been tempted to believe her. Not now.

Her sister had committed a crime or at least, what she considered to be one. Eternally impulsive, she had bound herself with a human man and then deserted him, thinking the incident would be forgotten. But what she did not account for was the tie such an act would lie upon the man's soul and hers. Forever, they would be joined, in one way or another.

"What is his name?" she sniffed away tears and turned back to Haldir. He smiled and ran his thumb over her cheek.

"Faramir, Captain of Gondor, son of the Steward."

"He is high-born then." And she shuddered to think of the consequences.

"The Lady knows most of the tale," Haldir continued. "The man was quite open with her. He says Aniror came to him some time last fall in Ithilien."

"When she was in the Wild?"

"Yes. She would not give him her name or rank. But," Haldir paused and shifted. Both he and Faeleth looked back to their son's room. "It seems she gave him much more."

Faeleth wrapped her morning robe about her. The silk skimmed her arms and made her flesh prickle. "But how has he come to Lorien if he knew not her name?"

Haldir inhaled. "Your sister was not wise enough to keep herself secret. Upon the last night they met, she told him to come to her, in Lorien, and he has."

"A foul enchantment she has laid upon him!" Faeleth spat. She pattered into the kitchen and began to clear the table of wine goblets. Aniror's still rested upon its side. "For this Faramir to obey her summons, she must have indeed bewitched him. Did she not know what her love would do to him?"

Haldir followed her and a frown pulled at his handsome face. "I am sure she did, but cared not."

Faeleth said nothing. Her hands flew over the table, straightening the cloth, blotting out stains.

"He knew your sister from the moment he saw her, Faeleth," Haldir said at length. "He knew of the scar upon her forearm."

Faeleth stopped and placed her full weight against the table. She trembled. "Oh Haldir." Tears plummeted down her cheeks.

Haldir wrapped his arms about her waist. "The Lady knows his story to be true, though Aniror denies it. Fear not, Galadriel is compassionate and she worries for your sister. The men of Gondor, she says, will remain in Lorien for a time, until the matter has sorted itself."

Faeleth breathed shakily. "Then I will go to this Faramir myself and apologize for the crime my own blood has committed."

"I would advise against it, my dear wife. Aniror was harsh with him upon the meeting or so Galadriel told me. Let the Lady see to Faramir and your sister."

Faeleth leaned against her husband's shoulder and her tears stayed. "Do you suppose this trouble has anything to do with, well, with Erthor?"

"The Elf Captain of Imladris?" Haldir asked quickly. "The one Aniror was so enamored with two years ago?"

"Yes, do you remember what his rejection did to her?"

"It is unfair to say he rejected her. He never accepted her in the first place."

"I know. I know." Faeleth wrapped her hand around her husband's upper arm. "But do you think she meant to avenge herself against him by loving the human?"

Haldir slackened his grip about her waist. "Do not vex yourself with such thoughts now. Speak not of it, especially before such keen ears."

As if hearing his father's words, Pelilas opened the door to his room and stepped out. With tousled hair and a bright smile he trotted into the kitchen.

"Good morn Naneth! Good morn Ada!" he chirped. 'What is for breakfast?"

* * *

Aniror gripped the sides of the bench she sat upon. Everything had gone wrong, horribly wrong. She had not meant for this to happen, no. She had not meant to the see the man again or to have him come to Lorien.

Well, you should not have called for him then, she thought and bitter regret rose up within her. Trembling, she tried to swallow it away.

It had been foolish to call for him, Aniror decided. She should have let matters be and left the man in Ithilien where he belonged.

But who could have foreseen his arrival to her own wood? She never thought he would be mindless enough to search for her. The Men of Gondor were not known to approach the Golden Wood. What made this one different?

Aniror shifted her legs and watched the closed door with terror in her eyes. For three days she had managed to avoid this moment, the moment when the Lady once more summoned her to face her crime. In that time she had concealed herself in Caras Galadhon, not daring to return to her sister's talan or her own. In a dark corner of her mind, Aniror prayed that the matter would be forgotten and the men would leave.

But they did not.

Impulsion! Aniror leapt to her feet and paced. The word spun in her thoughts. Her impulsion.

She remembered their first night, his surprise at finding one of her kind in Ithilien, her surprise at his lordly bearing.

It had not been a matter of love or lust, no, she had more control than that. Anger, yes, that was it. And seeing the look on Erthor's beautiful face when he heard that a human had claimed her.

Too late did she realize her mistake. Too late did she flee the realm of Gondor and that man, whatever his name was. Faramir?

Still, she should have never asked him to come.

Aniror paused by the window and caught sight of the fountain below the Lady's talan. The water seemed to mutter curses at her and she shivered.

She had not forgotten the man completely once she returned to Lorien, but thought of him when the hour darkened and she lay alone. Her skin would crawl, touched by a faded nightmare and with closed eyes, she would wish for the memory to dull.

It never did.

A man. Aniror wrinkled her nose in disgust. She had allowed a wretched, lowly man to touch her, to have her. Humans were no better than wild beasts. Perhaps _she _was the fool.

The door opened and Aniror hurried back to the bench. She clasped her hands before her.

Lord Celeborn entered the small chamber first and his face was stony. Nervous tears touched Aniror's eyes. Galadriel came next, resplendent in her white raiment. She smiled but it was a sad sort of smile. Aniror looked away.

"I am sorry for this," the Lady said after a moment had passed. "As I am sorry for Faramir and you, my warden."

Aniror said nothing.

"You are wise in many ways, Aniror," she continued. "I know you understand what you have done. By bonding yourself with Faramir bodily, you have bound your mind and spirit with his as well. According to the customs and bylaws of our people such an act makes him your husband."

A soft sob escaped her now and she could not stop the tears. They came, fast and warm, burning her cheeks. Vala, what had she done to herself?

"But you shall not be held to your bond." Now Lord Celeborn spoke and his deep voice soothed her. "At least, not within the realm of Lorien if you should so choose. And the ways of Gondor differ from our own. In Faramir's realm, you are not considered his wife."

Aniror sighed and swiped at her tears. Could she hope to emerge from this folly unscathed? "I…I understand my lord, my lady." She stood and bowed. "Thank you."

"I have not finished," Galadriel said. Her fingers touched Aniror's chin lightly. "Once more, it seems, your impulsive tendencies have gained ground over your wisdom."

"Never again shall it happen, I swear to it, my lady."

Galadriel seemed to ignore her frightened babbling. "I do not believe your words. Nor do I believe your sorrow or fear. This poor man, you thought to enchant him and now he has fallen under a spell, a perilous spell. He is known for gallantry and bravery in his own land and would not readily desert it. You have corrupted him and tormented him and made him a shadow of what he once was."

"I never meant to…" But Aniror felt her voice die and Lady's grow. Inside her mind, it whispered and the words were harsh. For a moment the morning light died and she felt a blackness take her.

_Do you know the evil you have caused him? The lies he spoke for you, the fear he faced? I think he was too kind to refuse your bewitchment, not foolish. You have inflicted a wound upon him that he shall not recover from. Do you feel any pity?_

Aniror wanted to lie but the truth came to her tongue first. "No."

Galadriel sighed and the room lightened.

Aniror's hand flew to her left forearm and the scar ached anew. The Lady tilted her head to the side.

"You have been most loyal to me, Aniror. But I cannot rely on such rashness. You are released from my service."

* * *

**Author's Note: **Hmm, I wonder why Boromir suddenly changed his mind about staying with Faramir? Maybe Lorien is having is having a good effect on him.

I only have a few notes on this chapter

According to my research on Elves, Aniror is in huge trouble. As it is, extramarital and premarital affairs do not exist amongst the Firstborn. In taking Faramir as her lover, Aniror has wed him. Also her sheer flippancy about the whole thing is very unbecoming as Elves take love and marriage seriously. Which is why Faeleth is ashamed and Galadriel is furious.

I do not believe Faramir would ever willingly leave Gondor to pursue some silly love affair. But if he was put under some sort of enchantment, he might have no choice.

Faramir's need to find Aniror and Galadriel's statement about Aniror "inflicting a wound he shall not recover from" I have based in Celtic mythology, more specifically the tale of Leanan Sidhe. Leanan Sidhe was a fairy woman who often took mortal men as lovers. Using her own enchantments and tricks, she bewitched them. And after being seduced, a mortal man could think of nothing else. If he was abandoned by his fairy mistress the man would slowly die. Other men were stolen by Lenanan Sidhe and taken to her homeland, Tir Na Nog.

These fairy womenwere not kind or pleasant. Humans were toyed with and abandoned easily, left to waste away in longing. In some versions of the tale, Leanan Sidhe is a vampire and instead of sucking blood, she drains the very life force of the mortal man.

Leanan Sidhe was of the Tuatha De Danaan, the fairy people of Ireland whom influenced Toklien's own Elves.

Thanks so much for reading! Please, leave a review.


	6. Chapter Six Contemplating Failure

**Author's Note: **Hello and welcome to chapter six of "Wounded". I would like to thank everyone who read and reviewed the last chapter, **Mystress of the Dark, MerryKK, Awen1923 **and **Nari-chan SND**. Thank you all so much for commenting! As always, I do not have a beta and while I have proofread this chapter many times, I am sure I have not caught all the mistakes. Any errors that appear in canon, grammar or spelling are my fault and my fault alone. I hope you enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **I claim no ownership of Toklien's masterpiece.

**Chapter Six Contemplating Failure**

Aniror disliked begging. She hated it, in fact. Only once in her long life had she succumbed to such humility, such disgrace. And In the end, it had only led to much heartbreak.

Aniror sighed and tried to wrestle her thoughts back into order. It was a mild morning that brought her to sister's talan. Oft was the sky clear, a wispy blue that bathed in the warm sun. Yet then and now, clouds would pass by, grey with the threat of rain. Storm shadows glanced over Caras Galadhon.

She ignored her distress or wanted to. But soon the miserable chill of despair mingled with the heat of panic.

She had lost her place. She had lost her life.

Aniror did not possess the wit or bravery to argue with the Lady. Nor did she wish to further damage her precarious situation. Hope alone remained.

Without her rank as warden, Aniror could do nothing, mush less achieve the most-coveted position of Captain. There must exist a way to regain standing, she thought. There must be a rescue from utter shame.

And then she remembered Faeleth, her sister….and wife to the current Captain of the Galadhrim. Of course, they had had their quarrels and harbored mistrust, but blood could not be undone.

Faeleth had great influence over her husband and Haldir was most loved by the Lady and Lord.

Surely, her sister would take pity on her plight?

Aniror paused by the narrow staircase that climbed toward Faeleth's talan. Silence held the floor of the city and echoed in the trees. Aniror inhaled the heady scent of elanor and timber.

She must not fail

Faleth seemed to have expected her sister and her face looked tight with fear as she opened the door.

"Sister?" Aniror spoke first and moved forward. Her voice shook in a manner she hoped would induce pity.

"I know why you have come," Faeleth replied. She stepped back and allowed Aniror into the talan.

"But only I know my purpose." Aniror glanced around the main room of the dwelling. "Where is Pelilas?"

"With his young companions."

Faeleth shut the door and leaned upon it. She wore a green gown, Aniror noted, a color of remembrance to their family and one of mourning.

"I am shamed, Aniror," Faeleth said at once. Aniror felt herself recoil. She clenched her fingers into fists and stared. Deep anger met her gaze.

"For what I have done?"

"Yes." Faleth moved away from the door and perched herself by a pair of covered chairs. "Why have you done this?"

"I do not know."

"It was not a matter of love was it?"

"No." Aniror heard the disgust in her voice. Love for a Man? Never.

"Then why? Revenge?"

A shudder shook the very breath in Aniror's lungs. "What mean you?"

Tears darkened Faeleth's light eyes. "Erthor."

"Do not speak his name on this cursed occasion," Aniror said. The warning in her voice did not stop Faeleth.

"Ever you act foolishly, sister. I fear I can no longer stop you."

"Faeleth, I beg of you-

"I have offered my aid and you have refused it."

"I was ashamed too, sister. Can you not see that?"

"There is nothing I can now do-

"I have lost my place on the guard!" Aniror lunged forward and grabbed her sister by the hem of her sleeve. "Please. You must speak with Haldir."

Faeleth rested her hand on Aniror's for a moment, and then began to gently pry her fingers away.

"I cannot help you."

"You will abandon me?"

"I will not help you."

Aniror tore away and cursed. "And so much I have done for you!"

"Leave now. I have little more to say to you," Faeleth said. "And I fear my words shall fall upon stone and not implant a seed of goodness or sense in you."

Aniror did not move.

"Leave now, please." Faeleth's features twisted with sorrow. "Before you cause the both of us harm."

The door was opened and Aniror stared at the winding steps that sprouted from the threshold.

Her sister would not help her.

"Very well!" she spat and hurried to the door.

* * *

Rain fell, heavy at times and not at all gentle as Lorien was accustomed to. Aniror brushed the waters from her cheeks, but the sting remained. The very heavens seemed to curse her.

Did she deserve it?

Her thoughts rumbled and vied with the thunder. Did she deserve it?

No, what harm had she done? If the Gondorian was foolish enough to believe she loved him or even lusted after him, well the fault was his. She could not be held accountable for every misstep!

Aniror paused by a clearing that existed by the wall edging the city. Two fallen trees marked the place and an array of targets had been affixed to them. Guards often congregated there, both to improve their skills and receive orders.

It was the Captain's domain and whenever Haldir stayed in Caras Galadhon, he could be found there.

Aniror shielded her eyes and searched through the rain. Her sister, Faeleth, had refused to help her. It mattered little now, anyhow. She would go straight to the main road and avoid hastily contrived short cuts. Her sister possessed no intelligence, after all and she had not the skill to improve Aniror's situation. Few did.

A thin figure moved through the wave of rain. Aniror frowned. The Elf was not board and muscled like Haldir.

"Good afternoon!" The face of a young guard greeted her and she suppressed a scowl. The Elf was a cheerful fellow and she hated him for it. "I could never have expected to meet you, Warden Aniror," he continued and Aniror felt her frown deepen. "Word has it the Men of Gondor are your guests."

"Insolence and stupidity!" Aniror cried and the guard shrank back. "Does your mind carry a thought not given to you by others?"

"Warden…Warden," he stuttered.

"She is a warden no longer," another voice interrupted and the rain seemed to lessen. Haldir strode towards them, a longbow in hand.

The young guard looked from his commander to Aniror in confusion. Haldir nodded. "Go, now. I will speak with you later."

The guard obeyed and Aniror was soon left alone with the Captain. Anger was in his eyes and face and she shivered.

She must not fail.

"Why have you come?" he asked, expressing his keen ability for directness in the most treacherous situations.

Aniror cleared her throat. If he could be direct, so could she.

"I am in need of your help."

"And Faeleth would not give it to you?"

Rain hit his shoulders and slid down his back. Aniror fought the urge to flee. She loathed his imposing manner and the way he terrified even her with his wrath.

"This does not concern my sister," she said. "You are my Captain and I seek your aid."

Haldir leaned upon the longbow and shifted his weight. "The Lady has spoken with me, do not think that she dared to be lax in such a time. I was informed of everything…everything."

Aniror swallowed and her own rage overflowed. "I am sure she has! And had she not, you would have known. All is open knowledge to you, Haldir. Mind you not your own business, when you can occupy yourself with the troubles of others!"

"I do not fear your fury," he said and she thought she saw a smile upon his lips. 'Nor does Faeleth. I for one, am happy to have you removed for the guard. Too long did you search where your eyes should not have gazed."

"I wished to be captain!" Aniror cried. Her voice struck the trees and thundered back.

"And you would have."

Did he dare taunt her? Aniror could not decide.

"Had it not been for several occasions of sincere folly."

"Haldir, enough!" she tried to protest, but his smile widened.

"Trapping twelve guards against the Nimrodel with Orcs at our heels."

"I remember well-

"Pursuing a party of goblins with no reinforcements."

"Do not torment me!"

"Chasing after an Elf who never loved you from the first."

"Stop!" She wanted to hit him, to knock him from his feet and leave him lying in the mud. But Haldir stood strong, as always, undaunted.

"And now this poor Man of Gondor," he said and slung his bow over his shoulders. "Go to him if you seek help. I can offer you none."

He left and she did not follow him. The rain was steady, but softer now. She leaned against the trunk of a tree and felt the cool water seep past her collar and kiss her flesh.

What to do?

And then she thought of Haldir's last words. Never did he speak without wisdom, even in jest.

Aniror straightened and smiled. Perhaps she would put his advice to good use.

* * *

Aniror stood before the door, her hand raised and ready to knock. But then she began to tremble. At once she backed away and dropped her hand to her side, fisting her fingers in the soft fabric of her leggings.

Silence dwelled in the halls of the Lady's talan and Aniror felt like a thief with a shadowed purpose. Why had she come here?

For help, her thoughts whispered. But what help could she hope to find?

The son of the Steward. The son of the Steward of Gondor. He had great influence, great sway and a host of men under his command. Certainly if his heart softened towards her again, he would aid her.

But perhaps his heart was hardened by her rejection. Men seemed like fickle beasts. She would be counted as a fool once more if she failed.

She must not fail.

The thought of promotion and a triumphant return to her life as a guard emboldened Aniror. She would watch as Haldir and even her wretched sister begged for her blessing, her protection. And those that had once laughed would weep, mockery turned to reverence.

She must not fail.

The man could easily be cast off once she had finished with him. After all, he would only do her good for a short while.

Aniror smiled and knocked on the door. Footsteps mumbled within the chamber. The door knob turned slowly.

A man opened the door, not the one she was after. He was tall with a noble bearing and grace in his eyes. Had she seen him before?

Aniror smiled brightly. "Good eve, my lord. Is…" she paused and a barrage of curses filled her mind. She could not remember the foolish man's name!

"My lord, is…" Aniror tried again but failed. The man stared at her and she felt his suspicion. It echoed off him in cold waves and an angry mist curled in his eyes.

"Do you wish to speak with my brother, Captain Faramir?" he asked and Aniror could have wept with relief.

Faramir! Yes, that was his name.

"Yes, my lord. I do." She watched him for a moment, smiling with her lips but scowling with her gaze. The man held the door open.

"Come inside."

She must not fail.

* * *

**Author's Note: **No long-winded notes this time. Thanks so much for reading! Please, review and share your thought with me. 


	7. Chapter Seven Apologies

**Author's Note: **Hello and welcome to chapter seven of "Wounded"! I would like to thank everyone who read the last chapter and also those who reviewed, **MerryKK**, **Nari-chan SND**, and **Sarahbarr17**. Thank you all so much! I do not have a beta for this fic and while I have proofread this chapter many times, I am sure I have not caught all my mistakes. Any errors that occur in canon, grammar or spelling are my fault and my fault alone. I hope you enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **I claim not ownership of Tolkien's masterpiece.

**Chapter Seven Apologies**

He stood across from her. Stood and stared. She noted the displeasure in his grey eyes, the firm stance of his body. His hands were folded behind him and he stared. Not a word did he speak.

"Captain Faramir." Aniror placed her palm on her chest and then extended her arm in greeting. He still said nothing.

The other man moved behind her then and she felt his shadow. It chilled her. Would neither of them speak?

Aniror tried to think, but panic began to drown her along with their smothering rage.

"I have come to see you," she said at last. The words hung in the air, dead. The second man had moved around her now and he stood by his brother. They looked alike in a way, she thought, though humans all seemed alike to her.

"Will you speak with me?" Aniror asked. Perhaps a question would induce him to talk.

Faramir shifted. His resolve seemed to fail and left him vulnerable. "I will give you a moment," he said.

She smiled. His voice was the same, even in anger.

His brother grunted, or made some sort of indistinct noise that convinced Aniror of a plot between them.

"But perhaps I should be more prudent," Faramir continued. "After all, you did not bother to extend the same courtesy to me four days past."

Ah, so his brother was trying to bolster his resistance. She had seen this many a time amongst her own kin. Fools often traveled in pairs, if only to compensate for their lack of sense.

"I apologize for that," Aniror said and allowed her voice to tremble just so. Faramir drew back his shoulders and his hair brushed the collar of his tunic. He wasn't an unpleasant man to look at, Aniror decided and the dark of Ithilien had helped to shade most of his imperfections.

The brother cleared his throat and Aniror looked at him sharply.

"Is that all you might offer me?" Faramir asked. "A simple apology for such disregard, for such insolence?"

He thought her insolent? She rubbed her forearm and felt the raised scar upon her flesh. "Perhaps we could speak alone?" The brother looked horrified. "Perhaps I could better explain myself then."

There seemed to pass a moment of silent conference between the two. The brother turned and blocked Aniror's view of Faramir with his wide shoulders. She lowered her eyes to the floor and scowled. This was almost too much trouble.

Suddenly, the brother departed. He hurried past her and his eyes cast a warning greater than any words. The door opened and shut and she was alone with Faramir.

"What have you to say?"

He was pacing the room now, agitated. Aniror narrowed her eyes and watched him. His footsteps were steady but light and he jerked his right heel up ever so often. An old wound pained him perhaps or the fatigues of travel.

"I have much to say," she replied. He paused by the window, parted the curtains and gazed outside. Rain dripped in. He withdrew his head and replaced the curtain. Water droplets clung to his brow.

"I will not grant you much time. Choose your words with care."

"I always do."

"I should think not."

"You often said you admired my speech," Aniror said smugly. He glanced at her.

"We may love how the birds sing, but who can tell what they say? I rather dislike the sound of your voice now."

"Why?"

"I do not believe it is your place to question me."

"Then make your inquires."

She had him there. Faramir appeared confused, trapped and he resumed his pacing once more. He did not speak for a long time.

"Why did you claim not to recognize me?" he said.

Aniror sighed and hoped the sound tugged at his heart. "I was frightened, if you must know."

"Frightened? Of what?"

"I did not expect you to come."

"You called for me." Faramir stopped his pacing and sank into a spindly chair, his arms thrown over his knees. "I came, I swore I would."

"Not many of your kind dare enter Lorien," she said. "Perilous, they call it. I never thought you would come."

"Did you not believe in my fidelity or affection for you?" His face hardened. "Or perhaps you never shared it yourself."

"Faramir, please." Aniror began to move forward but thought better of it. Instead, she hovered awkwardly by the door. Rain dampened the threshold.

"I did not even know your name, your rank." Faramir raised his brows with sudden skepticism. "What brought you to Ithilien in the first place?"

"An errand. Some of my kin still go aboard in the world, as you know. The Lady sent me to seek out news."

"As a spy?"

"No." She crossed her arms over her chest. "We would never harm your people, never. I was sent on an errand, as I am sure your lord has sent you. I came to Ithilien upon my way home and I saw you at twilight. Darkness fell, but the shadows did not touch you and I called you from sleep and…you came."

Aniror noticed his eyes widen slightly with memory and her heart lightened. Perhaps her charm was working, it had the first time.

"Why would you tell me so little of yourself when me met?"

"What bearing should my history have upon yours? Were you happy for that time, Faramir? I think so, otherwise you would not have followed me. Why must you know my name and place? Did you not care for me without it?"

He shifted in his chair and a single droplet of water slid down his temple. "You called me a fool before your Lady and my brother. You fetched me from my land and people and brought disgrace upon me. Tell me now, Elf, why should I care for you?"

Aniror abandoned her reserve and crossed the room. Kneeling by his chair, she grasped his hand and held it tight in between hers. He did not recoil from her touch.

"Because I beg you to accept my apology. Even those of my kind might be overwhelmed by emotion and words can become twisted as lies. I meant not what I said."

"You offer me little proof," he said but she saw a glow return to his cheeks. Even now, he flushed as she pressed her hand upon his, her thumb stroking his palm.

"Do you know that by our laws and customs, we are husband and wife?" She chuckled as his mouth dropped open. "Yes, Faramir, we are joined. But I will not impress upon you the role of husband if you do not wish it."

Silence took him and he stood suddenly, brushing her off. Aniror sat back on her heels, her jaw clenched. How long did he intend to carry on like this?

"You are no wife of mine," he muttered. She was shocked to hear distaste in his voice.

"Then what did you expect to find in coming to Lorien?" Aniror asked lightly. "You were hasty and foolish, ignorant to the ways of the Elves. How might your people think of you, if they knew of me?"

"That is what I fear," Faramir said. He stood by the window again. The curtains trembled, touched by the chilled wind of a spring storm.

"Why?" She slipped into the chair he had vacated. "I have already said that I will not impress upon you the role of husband. I am not a cruel Elf, Faramir, as you will come to learn. Do not fear me, beloved."

He faltered, Aniror noted with glee. Slowly, the steady resolve left his eyes and form and he looked as he had that first night in Ithilien. Pale was he brow as though starlight glanced upon it and in his gaze there swirled the ashes and fires of forgotten battlefields. He nodded.

Aniror contained a smile. She had not failed. "You have come to Lorien for my sake. Allow me some time in your company and I will show you my Wood."

"But what of your duty?" Faramir asked. "The Lady said you were in her service. Will you not be needed? Or are things so different in this place?"

Aniror froze for a brief moment. But soon her mind found a flattering lie. She raised her brows.

"You have taken leave from your duties to please me and I have done the same. That is the only fair way I think."

"Yes." He smiled then, a little grin that tugged at his lips and softened the lines crossing his forehead. "I should like to see Lorien in your company."

Aniror stood. "As you wish, my dear lord." She reached the door and paused. "Thank you for your understanding. Let my kin have no prejudice against yours."

* * *

**Author's Note: **Well, I think pretty much everything Aniror said in this chapter was a lie, poor Faramir. I really hate to see him this way. He is such a wonderfully strong character. Fortunately, the tables will turn soon and Aniror will get her comeuppance.

Thanks so much for reading! Please, take the time to review. Any and all feedback is greatly appreciated and will be returned.


	8. Chapter Eight Charmed

**Author's Note: **Hello and welcome to chapter eight of "Wounded". I would like to say thank you to everyone who read and reviewed the last chapter, **Nari-chan SND**, **MerryKK**, **enkemeniel**, **Awen1923**, and **Sarahbarr17**. Thank you all so much, your comments mean so much to me! As always I do not have a beta and while I have proofread this chapter many times, I am sure I have not caught all my mistakes. Any errors that appear in canon, grammar or spelling are my fault and my fault alone. I hope you enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **I claim no ownership of Tolkien's masterpiece.

**Chapter Eight Charmed**

It was the tenth day of their stay in Lorien. Or was it the fourteenth? Boromir couldn't decide as he sat beneath the Lady's talan in the gardens. Twilight masked dawn and noon melted into eve. He was unsure of time and place and it worried him.

How long had they been gone from Gondor?

Boromir leaned back upon a small stone pillar and crossed his arms behind his head. The easefulness of the Wood did not seem to trouble his brother. No, Faramir had fallen into a certain routine over the course of their stay. In the mornings he rose and ate what food the servants brought to them. And in the afternoons he went abroad with the Elf, Aniror, to return at dusk with the last light of the sun upon him.

He spoke little now and his eyes were veiled, changed in tone and sight until Boromir did not recognize him.

This place was perilous indeed.

Spring passed swiftly or so it seemed. Little flowers grew amongst the grass and their scent made Boromir weary. He limbs felt heavy along with his head and often he dozed, unaware of the world about him.

Did the magic of the Elves bewitch him? Sometimes he fought against the slumber, standing and pacing across the green glades. This was not his place, his home, drinking wine in thick gardens with soft songs in his ears. No, he should be in Gondor with his people…and so should Faramir.

What had happened to his little brother?

A languid creature Faramir seemed, pale and small and lost in something he could not control. Boromir worried after him and watched the days pass without his company. They must leave the Wood, he decided, but he did not have the heart to tear Faramir away.

But how much longer could they stay? Certainly, he had completed his errand and answered his riddle. Would he not seek to leave?

Boromir thought of Ithilien and the White Tower in the gleam of dawn. The cries and calls of Gondor seemed to fade and they wasted away in Lorien, lost to their kin.

A great flock of birds bustled about a nearby hedge and twittered. Boromir ran his hand over his temples, blocking the sun from his eyes.

"Do you enjoy the gardens?"

Boromir sat up and glanced over his shoulder. The Elf Haldir stood to his right, bow in hand. A long grey cloak fell to his feet and his hair was plaited.

"My lord, I ask your pardon for my interruption," he said and lowered his head slightly.

"No." Boromir grunted as he stood. "You have done no harm, Master Elf. Might I help you?"

"I had hoped," Haldir replied and his eyes swept the small garden. "But now I doubt. Your brother, Faramir, he is not with you?"

Boromir sighed. "He is abroad, again."

"With Aniror?"

"Yes, so I would think and so he says."

"It is foul then." Haldir's face darkened. "In more ways than one, I fear."

"Why?" Boromir tensed and worry tightened his muscles. Haldir leaned upon his longbow and looked around the garden once more.

"I had meant to speak with him, my lord, on that very matter. He goes abroad with Aniror often, yes?"

Boromir nodded. "Every day and he does not return until the sky has darkened."

Haldir was silent for a moment and Boromir wondered after his thoughts.

"Aniror is the sister of my wife," he said at length. "I have known her for many years as her Captain as well. There are many things that I would wish to tell you of her, but my time is short. Listen though and perhaps you will speak with your brother when he returns this night."

Haldir stepped back and seemed to ponder a minute longer before speaking again. "Many of my kin are virtuous beings, brave and gallant and kindly. All speak highly of them and I do not hesitate to praise their names. I say this only so you will not be prejudiced against those who dwell in the Golden Wood. We are a good people and generous in our deeds. Aniror, however, is best to avoid."

"She is cunning and clever and may make the most out of very little. But her kin regard her with suspicion, even her fellow guards. She is ambitious and impulsive, not to be trusted. Many a time her haste and vice have led to cruelty. The Lady was oft compassionate with her, but no more. Aniror has lost her place on the guard due to the harm she caused your brother."

Boromir inhaled. Faramir had said she had taken leave of her duties.

"I know she wishes to regain her position and if her cunning manner is to be trusted, I believe she would use your brother to achieve such. Do you understand what I say, my lord? It is not safe for him, I think, not at all."

"She is treacherous," Boromir growled.

"And dangerous," Haldir said. "Do you know she once loved an Elf named Erthor? He dwells not here, but in Imladris. He, however, was wise enough not return her affection. And I believe Aniror used your brother against Erthor, in her own strange way. She has enchanted him. "

"I knew it from the first," Boromir replied

"The love of an Elf, whether perceived or true, is not easily cast off," Haldir said, his eyes downcast. "I will do what I can, but Aniror is almost beyond my control. Speak with your brother or so I would advise. Caution him if he will listen."

Haldir slung his bow over his shoulders and adjusted the strap of his quiver. "I go to the borders. Perhaps you shall be gone when I return. I hope so, for your sake. Farewell."

Boromir watched as Haldir slipped through a thin archway and left the garden. His pulse throbbed in an unsteady cadence.

A deceiver she was. Did Faramir not see this?

The sharp light of noon had softened into evening and the breeze settled and died. Once more he thought of Minas Tirith and the pale shadows that traced the great white walls.

Faramir must be reasoned with.

* * *

Aniror lifted her hand and pointed upwards. "See the moonlight. It comes through the leaves, veiled, but lovely and cherished."

Faramir smiled and stepped closer to her. She was tall, he noticed, taller than the women of Gondor. And fairer.

"Always you speak words of wisdom," he said. Aniror glanced at him and a sly smile curved her lips.

"Common knowledge it is, amongst my kind. Verses of old poems and songs. I am no minstrel."

"What then?" Faramir asked. She turned from him and circled the trunk of a mallorn.

"A warrior, perhaps." Her hands ran over the bark. "A great Captain, I wish."

Faramir followed her, but Aniror quickened her pace. She always did that whenever they walked abroad, he noticed. Always she led and he trailed. Would he be doomed to forever chase her?

Time had passed, how much he could not tell. Lorien did not change. One night became another, one word a passing phrase, one question a faded riddle.

She was rather clever, his Elven lady. When he spoke of certain things she would only laugh and he would forget.

Aniror bewitched him, or so his mind warned. But soon the warnings weakened to whispers and then to silence. His cares fell away as did any other thought.

"Will you walk with me a bit longer?" she asked.

Faramir found he could deny her nothing.

"Yes, if you wish."

"Your brother will not mind?" Her nose wrinkled.

"No." And he knew Boromir wouldn't. His brother had grown quiet, withdrawn but he did not think to worry after him. "Where shall we go?"

Aniror had shown him much of the city and spun tales to go along with their travels. Sometimes they met with other Elves and greetings were exchanged. But mostly she remained with him and spoke with him alone.

Her breathy tones were laced with promises and once more, Faramir believed her.

"Have you seen where I dwell?" Aniror asked. They moved together along a winding lane paved with white stone. White like the walls of Minas Tirith, he thought. The moonlight glanced upon it and made odd patterns through the trees.

"No," he replied. She was walking just in front of him. His hand trembled. Dare he place it on her shoulder? "You have not brought me to your home."

"Then we shall go."

Faramir had passed beneath many a talan perched above in the branches and he knew some of the dwelling of the Lady. Still, he could not imagine the house of an Elf, especially Aniror's.

He followed her to the base of a smaller tree and she gestured at the staircase.

"The climb is long."

"And I am strong and swift."

Aniror laughed. They ascended slowly and often she stopped to point out other sights.

"See that talan? There dwells my sister and her husband, Haldir. You have met him."

"You have a sister?" he asked. She had not spoken of family before.

Aniror nodded. Elves lingered on their balconies. Some lit lanterns and one sat with a harp upon his lap. "Her name is Faeleth and she has a child, a son. He is called Pelilas."

"Why did you not speak of her before?"

Aniror tilted her head to the side and laughed once more. Faramir forgot his question.

"Perhaps you should meet with her. If you like, that it is. She is kindly, if not a bit foolish."

And she moved away and up the stairs. Faramir paused for a moment by the rail and stared at the talan she had pointed out. Through the windows he saw a shadow, nothing more.

Aniror's talan sat on a lower branch. A platform stretched out to meet the staircase. The windows were bare, the curtains pulled away and a single lantern hung above the door. Aniror pushed it open and stepped inside. Faramir followed.

He found himself in a small room with an arched ceiling. A large bench draped in a green cloth stood in the center of the room. Upon one wall was a tapestry, woven of gold, silver and red.

"It was made by my Naneth's hand," Aniror said as she noticed Faramir's gaze upon it. "Before she left these shores. Faeleth wished to have it, but Naneth gifted it to me. I know not why."

"My mother is dead," Faramir said suddenly. Aniror simply nodded.

"I am modest, as you see," she said and he agreed. The room was unadorned. A table, and chairs sat in the center. A cabinet for weapons was pushed to the side. Underneath his boots a small rug cushioned his footfalls.

"Most of my time is spent away, upon the borders or in the Wild. I have no need for charms or trinkets. They are burdensome."

Faramir paced the room. Aniror stayed by the far wall. By the door to the balcony, something caught his eye.

"Do you read?" he asked and knelt by the bookshelf. Heavy tomes were interspaced with small books. He could not make out their titles in the dim light.

"Yes, when I can. And you?"

"When I can,' Faramir replied with a chuckle. "I do not keep books when in Ithilien. It has been a long while." He ran his hand over the binding of one book and pulled it free from the shelf. "This is in the common tongue."

"I had need to learn it," she said.

Faramir gently opened the cover and turned a single page, his eyes dashing along the lines.

"Take it with you." Aniror crossed the room and leaned over him. "I daresay you will have time to read in Lorien."

"Thank you." He rose and smiled, the book clutched to his breast. Aniror had turned her head, her hand resting by her side. Faramir reached for it. His fingertips brushed hers.

She pulled away.

"Your brother must expect you," she said. She glanced at the door. "I have kept you long."

Why this sudden urgency? Aniror was moving across the room once more and Faramir felt forced to follow her.

"Will you come and meet me again tomorrow?" he asked. She ushered him over the threshold.

"Yes, yes I will."

The door closed and Faramir took a surprised step back.

He had been too bold. Curse it all.

* * *

Aniror leaned against the door and grunted. Two weeks she had spent in the man's company. The time pressed upon her, worried her and she began to wish for the end of it all.

Of course she had charmed him. That came easy enough. She had separated him from his troublesome brother as well. That had taken more skill. And now she had left him hints regarding her true desire, a captaincy.

After two weeks he seemed heedless. The man was simple, she decided. That and nothing more. He did not appear half so lordly or gallant beneath the leaves of Lorien, when Ithilien's light had passed from his eyes.

She could not take this madness.

Aniror moved through the main room out onto the balcony. No breezes stirred Caras Galadhon this night and the air was warm. A clear sky shone with stars.

She remembered nights like these, not so long ago, when she had been more content with her life. Days of folly they were and sheer naivety, when she believed in unspoken words and hope.

No more.

The scar on her arm ached as it always did when she thought of old memories. Below, Aniror saw Faramir pass beneath the tree and hurry along the narrow path. He was smiling.

Perhaps it would not be much longer now.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Poor Faramir. At least his enchantment will only last another chapter or two.

Thanks so much for reading! Please, take the time to review and share your thoughts with me. All comments are greatly appreciated.


	9. Chapter Nine An Evening Meal

**Author's Note: **Hello and welcome to chapter nine of "Wounded". I actually finished writing the story this week and it will be fifteen chapters long. So you can expect the next six chapters to be posted every three to four days. And I think there will probably be a sequel as I am truly enjoying writing this story and it has been a long time since I enjoyed writing anything at all. I would like to say thanks to everyone who reviewed, **MerryKK**, **Nari-chan SND**, **Awen1923**, and **enkemeniel**. Thank you all so much! As always I do not have a beta and while I have proofread this chapter many times, I am sure I have not caught all my mistakes. Any errors that appear in canon, grammar or spelling are my fault and my fault alone. I hope you enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **I claim no ownership of Tolkien's masterpiece.

**Chapter Nine An Evening Meal**

Faeleth shook out the blankets and laid them across the bed. The carefully stitched pattern, a mallorn tree in gold and silver thread, looked wrinkled. She frowned, smoothing it with her hand and tucking the corners beneath the pallet. The warmth of early summer sun fell through the windows. In the main room, she heard Pelilas singing.

_Oh the thorns of roses_

_Each tear my heart so sore_

_And if ever I'm freed from the old briar tree_

_I shall never get in it anymore_

It was an old song, one Haldir often sang when he was cheered or wished to make her laugh. Faeleth glanced out the door and smiled. Her son sat on the floor, surrounded by wood chippings. Pelilas had decided to become a craftsman after his recent success with the horse. To go along with the little creature he had begun to carve a rider. Rumil had been kind enough to provide a book of pictures that included a sketch of a Rider of Rohan.

For nearly two weeks he had been at it, sculpting two arms and legs and finally a helm. Faeleth found she did not mind the mess he made, but wished him to stay occupied, lest he hear the rumors.

Haldir brought them home every night and when Pelilas slept, they whispered together upon the balcony. It seemed that her sister had taken up with the Gondorian. They had been spotted about Caras Galadhon, laughing and exchanging smiles. Orophin had reported seeing them once together in the gardens but he did not dare approach.

And neither did Faeleth. For two weeks she and her husband had kept their distance, though now her guilt grew.

What did Aniror want with this Faramir? She was ashamed not to trust her own sister, but years of lies and falsehoods had taught her otherwise.

Lady Galadriel had been kind enough to keep Aniror's sordid behavior to herself but scandal seemed destined to abound. Aniror was no longer a guard. Questions were raised, along with speculation.

Faeleth bit her lower lip as she watched Pelilas play. Her sister had not come to her in two weeks time and she was glad for it. She did not wish her family to come to shame.

Suddenly, Pelilas dropped his small knife and looked up.

"Footsteps, Naneth," he said. Faeleth moved into the main room and listened. After a moment she heard them, light and swift, upon the steps outside.

It was not Haldir's stride, nor Rumil's or Orophin's. She sucked in her breath.

"Aunt Aniror!" Pelilas leapt to his feet and hurried to the door. But Faeleth cast out her arm, catching him.

"To your room."

"But Naneth-

She frowned down at him. "Now. To your room and shut the door."

Pelilas obeyed. He picked up his small knife and shoved it in his pocket, taking the half-finished carving in hand. Faeleth waited until she heard his door close before moving.

A knock sounded.

"Faeleth? Faeleth, it is me. I only wish to speak with you for a moment." Aniror's voice was muffled and Faeleth hesitated as she grasped the doorknob.

What if she did not let her in? Would Aniror scream and quarrel as she had when they were elflings?

Faeleth sighed and opened the door just enough to see her sister's face.

"You have a moment," she said.

"Ah Faeleth!" Aniror smiled and her cheeks were rosy. Faeleth distrusted such warmth, such friendliness.

"What is it?"

"I wish to ask a favor of you."

Faeleth shook her head. "I am sorry-

"Do not be so hasty to apologize," Aniror scolded though there was little threat in her voice. "You do not know what I might ask. Perhaps you shall find it agreeable."

"My doubt it strong."

"Then listen, if you will, you may rebuke me later." Aniror took a step back and brought herself to her full height. Faeleth shut the door slightly, lessening the crack that showed her sister's frame. Aniror _was _tall and swift.

"I wish to invite Captain Faramir over for an evening meal. Will you allow it?"

Faeleth sagged against the door. "What…what mean you?"

"We have spent a generous amount of time in each other's company and I should like him to meet you. He has only met Haldir, after all and he did inquire as to you. Will you not allow it?"

Faeleth stared at Aniror, found her eyes and searched for the lie that must lie within.

"Why are you doing this, sister?" she asked at length. Aniror's brow furrowed.

"I thought it polite."

"No." Faeleth shut her eyes for a moment. "Why do you bother with this Faramir? It is for a false purpose, I fear."

She expected to feel the quick return of anger, harsh words and muttered curses that made her blood freeze. But Aniror only frowned.

"Have I displeased you by doing such? Is it not morally considerate to attend to him after he has journeyed so far to come to me?"

"You told me you did not love him, nor care for him in any manner. You were cruel to him, in fact."

"I was misguided," Aniror replied and she cast her eyes upon the threshold and away from Faeleth. "And I was frightened. He has forgiven me now, I think."

"You have bewitched him then."

"I have done nothing of the sort!" Aniror looked indignant and Faeleth hid behind the door. "Invite him to your home and you will see the truth of it. It is wrong for one to be so judgmental of things one has never seen."

"I must speak with Haldir," Faeleth replied and she hoped to stall her sister's request. Aniror, however, shook her head and smiled.

"He left for the borders this morn and shan't return for a while. I know this, Faeleth. Do not take me for a fool."

Faeleth sighed once more. There seemed no way around it. "I will allow it, only to please the Steward's son."

Aniror reached through the crack and clasped Faeleth's hand. "Thank you. Tomorrow evening?"

"Yes, yes." Faeleth tried to close the door, but Aniror would not remove her hand.

"He has a brother, an older brother named Boromir," she said. "I am sure he will be expected as well." Disgust covered Aniror's voice and Faeleth tilted her head.

"Very well, I shall keep a place for him."

"Thank you." Aniror at last withdrew her hand and moved back down the staircase. Faeleth shut the door, leaning upon it. What had she gotten herself into?

She looked up and saw Pelilas' head hanging out his bedroom door, curiosity infusing his countenance.

"Inside at once!" Faeleth snapped. Pelilas did not hesitate to obey.

* * *

"What is this business?" Boromir asked. He stretched out his legs before him and glanced through the book Faramir had brought. His younger brother stood by the window, as usual and starlight framed his figure.

"An evening meal," Faramir said. He lifted his shoulders with a shrug. "The sister of Aniror. Her husband is the Captain Haldir, you recall him?"

"Yes." Boromir raised his eyes from the book. "What do they want of us?" Faramir shifted he weight impatiently, he noticed. Something had changed in him of late, something desperate.

"An evening meal," Faramir repeated. He was pacing now, back and forth, back and forth. Boromir followed his movements with a stern gaze. Jerky and tense, Faramir seemed, not graceful as he had been. His brother stumbled over his own feet.

"I should like you to accompany me," he continued. "It is rather overwhelming to be alone with Elves."

"And yet you spend your days with Aniror quite happily."

Faramir stopped and Boromir saw him tense.

"I do not mind passing my hours with her."

"Why is that?"

Faramir shrugged once more. "I do not know why."

Boromir shut the book and laid it upon his lap. Did Faramir truly not have an answer to his question or did he refuse to give it?

It worried him to think Faramir would hide such things from him. Secrets were perilous, especially in a strange land where the moon was foreign and time did not exist. Outside, the continuous chanting of Elves haunted him.

"Will you come?" Faramir asked and the eagerness in his voice made Boromir's flesh prickle. It sounded unnatural. "It will only be for a short while, I think. And I know you should like to spend some time aboard. You haven't so much as left the shadow of this tree!"

"I am content," Boromir answered. Faramir's face fell.

"But surely…but you must…"

"Fear not." Boromir rose and threw the book down upon his chair in anger. "I will go with you. I have journeyed with you so far, away from Gondor, away from reason."

He had hoped his words would have a greater impact on his brother, but Faramir smiled and took no notice.

"I am glad for it. So glad for it," he said. "Thank you, brother." He walked back to the window, smiling and leaning upon the casement. "I need you with me, I think."

"Yes," Boromir replied and stared at his brother. "I am most needed."

* * *

Faeleth's fingers fumbled over the top buttons of Pelilas' tunic. Her son squirmed and stamped his feet. Ever since he had heard that two Men would be joining them for dinner, he had not put the thought from his mind.

"What do Men look like?" he asked. Faeleth straightened his collar and looked him over critically.

"Like Elves and not yet so," she replied at length. Pelilas frowned in frustration.

"Not like Orcs?"

Orophin, who stood by table, chuckled into his hand. Both Haldir and Rumil had gone to the borders the day before and Faeleth was glad for his company.

"No," she said and ran a brush through his hair. "You will see."

"Do not fear," Orophin said. He brought a decanter of dark wine to the table. "They are kindly and mighty amongst their kin. The Lady puts her trust in them."

"But why must we eat with them?" Pelilas was whining and Faeleth prayed he would behave in a seemly fashion. "Why? I do not want to eat with _Men_."

"They are friends of Aunt Aniror," Faeleth said. Orophin stifled a chuckle once more.

Faeleth stood and shot him a warning glance.

"Forgive me." He tilted his head to the door. "I hear your guests. So loud they walk, I could shoot them in the dark."

"Enough." Faeleth pushed Pelilas into the main room and sat him down where he continued to pout. Up the stairs she heard the steady plod of feet. Slowly they walked and her pulse jumped.

What wickedness had Aniror construed now?

Before a knock sounded, Faeleth opened the door and presented herself with a smile. Her sister stood between two Men, both tall and gracious.

"My lords," she said and felt her breath quicken. "Welcome."

* * *

"You look much like your sister," Faramir said sometime during the meal. Both Aniror and Faeleth glanced up. He sat across from them, with Boromir at his side. Orophin remained by the head of the table with young Pelilas by his left elbow.

Aniror chuckled lowly and shook her head. "Not so much," she said, leaning over her plate and goblet. "Faeleth possesses the grace and patience of our Ada and I, well I-

"My sister belongs to my Naneth," Faeleth finished for her. "They were so much alike. Brave and…and impulsive."

"But we quarreled often enough," Aniror said. She lifted her fork and flicked it towards her sister. "Perhaps that was why."

Faeleth gaped at Aniror. Never before had she seen her so cowed, so humbled. Could Faramir have done this to her?

The evening had progressed with ease and Faeleth found herself enjoying the company of the Men. Both were polite and lordly, much unlike what she had expected. The older of the two, Boromir had a quietness about him though and she noticed his suspicious eyes often darted across to Aniror.

Perhaps he was right to judge her sister so, she thought, her knife sliding through a piece of venison. Aniror had certainly given them cause for suspicion.

The Men were quite grateful for her invitation and throughout the evening they shared much news for Gondor. Orophin was keen on hearing what military campaigns had transpired. Boromir answered each of his questions and asked several of his own. Soon, both Elf and Man were deep in conversation.

Pelilas, on the other hand, had become quite enraptured with Faramir. He asked the Captain many a question and many a time Faeleth cringed at his impropriety.

Faramir only laughed, his eyes light and voice merry. He was kindly man, gentle Faeleth thought. She noticed oft how his eyes lingered on Aniror and hope shaped a smile upon his lips. Faeleth began to worry.

His look was of love and Aniror's of annoyance. What had her sister done?

"And what of your parents, Faramir?" Aniror asked of a sudden. Faramir's face tightened and Boromir looked to his brother.

"Our mother is dead," Boromir said at length. "Long ago did she pass and sad was the day. Our father, Denethor, rules as Steward of Gondor."

Faramir said nothing. Aniror raised a brow. After a slight pause the conversation started anew, a balmy breeze whisking away the tension and unease.

Boromir, however, continued to stare at Aniror. Faeleth sensed his anger.

After the meal, Faeleth stood and took Pelilas to bed. He protested much, only leaving when Faramir promised to visit with him again.

"A sweet child," Faramir said when Faeleth had returned. She offered him a smile.

"Sweet, but merciless in many ways. He is too clever for his own good, I fear."

"Much like his Aunt," Boromir interjected. Aniror tilted her head to the side.

"I am not clever, my lord, certainly not," she said. "Keen, perhaps. But not clever. Wickedness is born from such manipulation."

"Yes." Boromir shifted in his seat, his fingers perched on the rim of his goblet. "So I said."

"Now brother," Faramir said. "You are unfair, I think. Aniror is gracious, not wicked."

Boromir said nothing, but darkness shielded his face and thoughts. Aniror turned her attention to Faramir.

"You see now my family or what is left of it. Are we very different form those in Gondor?"

"Not at all," Faramir replied. "I see more similarities than differences. If only more of Mankind might meet with Elves, then perhaps old fears would cease and the world should be joined once more."

"Ah, but our time is over," Orophin said. He poured more wine into his goblet. "The Elves leave these shores. Many have gone before us and many shall go yet."

"And you?" Faramir asked, but his gaze was upon Aniror. "Shall you go?"

The corner of her mouth turned up. "That is not for me to answer, not now. Much lies before me, I fear, before I might leave."

Faramir nodded. His lips parted and he began to speak, but a hearty knock sounded upon the door. The entire company jumped. Faeleth's heart slammed against her ribs. Such a knock begat only ill tidings. She hurried to her feet, reached the door and pulled it open.

Rumil stood upon the threshold. His chest heaved and his hair was crowned with bramble and leaves.

"What is it?" Faeleth's voice sounded high. She could not hide her fear. Rumil shook his head and stepped into the talan. His eyes found the Men at once. He frowned.

Aniror stood. "Boromir and Faramir," she said quickly. "The sons of the Steward of Gondor."

"My greetings," he said, then turned to Orophin. "I have been sent from the borders with all haste. A company has arrived. Elves from Imladris." He stared at Aniror. "Led by Captain Erthor."

* * *

**Author's Note: **The song that Pelilas sings is actually my adaptation of a Child Ballad that is thought to originate from Northern Europe but also has many English variations. It is sometimes known as "The Prickly Bush" or "The Maid Freed from the Gallows". In the song, a young maiden begs the hangman to stay her execution until someone comes for her. Her mother, father, brother and sister all come but refuse to help her. Only her lover arrives with the fee needed to save her life.

The original chorus runs thusly, _"Oh the prickly bush. It pricks me heart full sore. And if ever I'm out of the prickly bush. I'll never get in it anymore." _The prickly bush is thought to represent a doomed love affair and I suppose you can see why I thought it suited this story. For a really great version of this song, I would suggest listening to Steeleye Span's cover, it's brilliant.

Thanks again for reading! Please leave a review and share your thoughts me. All reviews are greatly appreciated and always make my day.


	10. Chapter Ten Confronting the Truth

**Author's Note: **Hello and welcome to chapter ten of "Wounded". I would like to say thanks to everyone who reviewed, **Nari-chan SND**, **MerryKK**, **Sarahbarr17**, **childofGod-4ever**, and** Awen1923**. Thank you all so much! As always I do not have a beta and while I have proofread this chapter many times, I am sure I have not caught all my mistakes. Any errors that appear in canon, grammar or spelling are my fault and my fault alone. I hope you enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **I claim no ownership of Tolkien's masterpiece.

**Chapter Ten Confronting the Truth**

Aniror felt the air escape from her lungs. She gasped and clutched the table.

"Aniror?" Faramir was by her side then, his hand upon her back. She flinched and pulled away from his touch. Oh the memories it brought. "What ails you?" His voice sounded soft, whispered. It slipped into her ear and made her heart ache. She trembled.

"I am well." Aniror stepped away. His hand slid from her back, falling to his side. Concern laced his gaze.

Aniror squeezed her hand over her left forearm to stem the pain. The scar burned at the very mention of Erthor's name and the old poison of the Orc arrow once more threatened her.

Faeleth stared at her, as did Orophin and Rumil. She hated the cruelty of their eyes and the questions that lurked behind each glance. Aniror turned from them.

A space of silence passed, torturing. Each moment grated upon her, each memory. Erthor, the fool, the coward. What brought him to Lorien? Did he wish to beg for her mercy? Or did he come to gloat?

Many a day she wished for his death and torment. Many a day she had vowed revenge. And what had revenge brought her?

Aniror glimpsed Faramir by the tableside, his head bowed. Such was her vengeance, a human, a lowly Man. Oh how Erthor would laugh now.

"You must come with me," Rumil said. He laid his hand on Orophin's shoulder. "Haldir has asked for you. The company must be brought to Caras Galadhon tonight."

"Tonight?" Both Faeleth and Orophin asked in unison.

"So many leagues to cover," Orophin grumbled.

"And they must be wearied," Faeleth said. "Won't they rest?"

"No, not this night," Rumil said. "Orcs have troubled the borders."

"Orcs?" Boromir found his feet. "From where?"

"The mountains," Orophin replied. "Most dwell in Moria, leaving only to attack and harass."

"If my sword is needed," Boromir paused and gestured to Faramir. "And my brother's. We shall come if you wish and offer our aid."

"The way is long and you are still counted as strangers in our land," Rumil said. "My apologies, but you must stay in the city until you take your leave and return South, to your homeland."

Boromir nodded but Faramir said nothing. He stepped behind Aniror and once more, his hand pressed upon her shoulder.

"Aniror?"

Aniror jumped as she felt his hand upon her. A shiver rushed up her spine. Would he not leave her be?

"We must leave at once," Rumil said. He and Orophin were by the door. "Forgive us." The door opened and shut and Faeleth hovered by it for a moment, her hands clenched.

"Aniror?" Faramir had drawn closer to her now. She struggled to remain still.

"I…I must take my leave as well," she said. Gently, she brushed away Faramir's hand.

"Do you go to join them?" Faramir asked. Aniror ignored him, brushing past both Boromir and her sister. But Faeleth would not let her reach the door.

"Aniror." She grabbed her wrist and with surprising strength, pulled her back. "Where do you go?" she whispered.

"Away," Aniror replied. Faeleth still would not release her and an angry flush brushed her cheeks. "Leave me go."

"Do not be a fool," Faeleth said. "Do not think to go after Erthor." Her eyes slid over Faramir. "Not now."

Aniror cursed under her breath, offering her sister a scowl. But by the Valar, she was right.

Aniror shook her off and moved back into the kitchen. Faramir was on her heels, as usual.

"Who is this Erthor?" he asked. "His name seems not unfamiliar."

"An old friend of our family come from Imladris or Rivendell as Men are wont to call it," Faeleth replied. She laughed to cover the lie. "An old friend is all."

"Had I not heard otherwise," Boromir said suddenly.

Aniror whipped about. "What say you?" Her breath came hard, fueled by fear. What could this Man know?

Boromir shook his head. "Nothing. We must take our leave." He beckoned to Faramir. "Mistress Faeleth, my deepest thanks."

Both brothers bowed to Faeleth and farewells were exchanged. Aniror stalked over to the door. She twisted her fingers around the knob. Sweat made her palms sticky.

"Come, I will guide you back," she said. "Neither of you know the way."

* * *

The trees of Lorien were still, no wind daring to glance upon them. The moon sailed high and its light fell downward, coloring their backs silver. Boromir watched Aniror before him and wondered if she would dart away into the darkness with a cackle and a grin.

She was wicked. Did Faramir not see this?

He turned his head to glance at his younger brother and saw only care in his eyes and foolishness. His heart clenched, beating loud and hard. What bewitchment had befallen him? They should have never come to Lorien, never.

"Take care," Aniror said. Her voice broke the silence. She pointed to the ground where roots snaked and fallen logs hid beneath deceiving leaves.

"Your sister is pleasant," Faramir said. He hurried his step to catch up with Aniror, leaving Boromir behind in shadows.

Aniror laughed and the sound was high and steely. Boromir shivered.

"Pleasant, in her simple way," she said. "But rivalry is a treacherous thing and poisons us even now."

They continued to converse. Rage churned Boromir's blood. He hated this Elf, this wretched she-Elf.

And he hated to see his brother used.

What course of action might be taken? This was no military matter. One could not solve such a quandary with sword or bow. Care must be applied along with great thought and cunning. The only way to fool a deceiver was to deceive. But he had not the mind to trick or trap her. But Faramir did.

Could he make his brother see the truth of it?

Boromir sighed and glanced up. They had already come to the Lady's home and the always present guards greeted them. Faramir stood close to Aniror.

"Will you come again?" he asked. Boromir did not like the eagerness in his voice.

"Yes, when I can," she replied.

Suddenly, Faramir took a step forward and placed a kiss on her brow. Aniror jumped and wriggled in his grasp.

"Good night, my lord," she said. Boromir felt her brush past him, wild-eyed. Faramir watched her go before turning up the stairs.

"Come along brother," he yawned. Boromir made to follow him, but paused by the bottom step.

"Go, I will come shortly," he said.

"But brother-

Boromir ignored him and slipped into the darkness.

* * *

Aniror, for all her reputed skill as a guard, was not difficult to find. Boromir spied her first passing beneath the far-side of the Lady's dwelling, her head bowed. In the telling light of the moon she looked cold and so very cruel.

He took a breath and waited for her to draw closer. She did not notice when he stepped out before her.

"Abroad so late?" he asked. "Do you go to borders of your land, I wonder or into some peril?"

Aniror looked up at him sharply. Shock sat undimmed in her glance. "What know you of my ways?"

"Not so polite when not with my brother," Boromir said. Aniror scoffed.

"My courtesy does not come cheaply, Man. I will not extend it to those who may not afford it or do not wish it."

"You are free with your affections, though, too free." Boromir stopped short of calling her a whore. Unbridled anger would only further damage the situation and blind his senses. He needed his wits about him this night.

"Tell me," he said. "What brings an Elf to Ithilien and gains her the love of a mortal? Did you choose my brother from the outset for your wicked ploy or would any Man have done?"

"Piglet!" she snarled but did not answer his question.

"How many lies have you spun?" he continued on and his voice rose. "Is it all for sport? You seem little pleased with Faramir now."

"You have but spent an hour in my company and think to judge me?" Aniror said. Her face seemed to shrivel with rage. "Little you know though great is your speech. Dumb is your tongue and mind, I think."

"Ah, but my ears are sharper than believed. Your Wood does not keep its secrets well. Many are willing to speak and I have heard the full of it."

Aniror's mouth opened slightly but she snapped it close. Her eyes widened with understanding then fear.

"Who, I wonder, has played my betrayer?"

"One who is dear to you," Boromir said, twisting the verbal knife further into her gut. He wanted her to bleed for her crimes.

"My sister?" she asked.

Boromir shook his head. "I am not so careless as to speak. But I will say what I know."

Aniror watched him and he paced before her. This Elf could be dangerous, _was _dangerous. Every word must be carefully placed.

"I know of your first lie to my brother," he said at length. "The Lady released you from her service, you took no leave. How wretched it must be to lose one's position after years of plotting and speaking falsehoods. But worry not, my brother will not return you to the guard or fetch you the captaincy you wish."

"That's a lie!" she cried.

"You do little good denying it," Boromir said. He paused. Aniror looked livid, her high-cut nostrils flared. Should he continue?

Boromir knotted his hands behind his back. "And I know of Erthor."

She recoiled.

"I know that you loved him and pursued him and failed. And I know you sought revenge by way of Faramir."

"I sought nothing from your brother."

Boromir smiled. "Then you will not mind our leave-taking. A shame it should come just as Captain Erthor arrives, but we must return to our city."

"Faramir will not go with you," she countered.

"He will, I shall see to it."

Boromir turned from Aniror. Her rage burned and he felt the heat of it.

"Good eve, lady," he said lightly and passed back into the shadows. She did not follow him. Boromir sighed in relief.

Now he had only to convince poor Faramir.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Well it's about time Boromir said something, I think. Aniror has run unchecked for too long.

Thanks so much for reading! Please review and share your thoughts with me. All feedback is greatly appreciated.


	11. Chapter Eleven Shadow

**Author's Note: **Hello and welcome to chapter eleven of "Wounded". I decided to post a little early since I have a busy day ahead of me tomorrow. This chapter is a bit slower than the rest as it contains flashbacks as to what exactly happened between Aniror and Erthor. I would like to thank everyone who took the time to read and review the last chapter, **Nari-chan SND**, **MerryKK**, **childofGod-4ever**, **enkemeniel**, and**Awen1923**. Thank you all so much! As always I do not have a beta and while I have proofread this chapter many times, I am sure I have not caught all my mistakes. Any errors that appear in canon, grammar or spelling are my fault and my fault alone. I hope you enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **I clam no ownership of Tolkien's masterpiece.

**Chapter Eleven Shadow**

Aniror paused by the threshold of her talan. The night-birds were singing, sweetly and she could have wept for their beauty.

And she could have wept for fear.

Erthor had come to Lorien as she had never expected him to. Now he crossed into the Golden Wood with his company and she would be forced to face him. What would he say, she wondered. Or would he speak at all?

Perhaps they would share a cold glare or a harsh greeting. Perhaps he would refuse to meet with her and she would skirt about him. Or perhaps he would be kind as he always had been, causing her rage to grow.

She wished him pain and torment. She wished his heart split open and the red blood to splash upon the stones. She wished him dead.

But in her heart, Aniror could not deal the death blow. She was a coward, not cunning, a creature who sought manipulative means to heal her wounds and tear apart the flesh of another.

Faramir had been her revenge. What would bold and gallant Erthor think when she found love in the arms of Man?

Jealous, he would be jealous. And angered. And perhaps just perhaps he would feel a little of the pain that haunted her.

He deserved it, after all.

Aniror leaned against the closed door, her hair catching upon small splinters engrained in the wood. She would not have revenge now, Boromir had seen to that.

Curse him! She wished him dead along with Erthor.

Boromir would take his brother from Lorien and from her and leave her alone with nothing.

No position. No ally. No lover.

And what would she do then? Would Galadriel repent and release her from punishment? Or would she be bound to an empty life amongst the trees, achieving no glory.

It frightened her most, the thought of passing from this world unknown and unheeded. Long had been the years of her life, long and forgotten. The trees would hold no memory of her and the earth would not miss her light footfalls.

Wasted. She had wasted so many years.

Now Erthor had come to Lorien with his company. Aniror growled and pulled up her sleeve. The scar was pale in the moonlight, modest. No mark of poison or blood or pain remained. But oh she felt it still.

It had been for him and him alone. For him.

_Aniror settled her hood over head. Snow had begun to fall, thin flakes that lit upon her flesh but melted on the ground. A cold wind blew and spoke of ice and winter. The sky was grey with worried clouds._

_Haldir frowned. "You are a fool, Aniror."_

"_Such kind words," she replied. Her horse nudged her shoulder and pushed her forward. Haldir sighed and took a step back._

"_Will you not heed the Lady's counsel? It is ill, I fear, for you to leave the Wood now. Often do black storms brew over the Mountains."_

"_As they have for centuries." She folded her arms. Haldir had seen her to the borders and she was surprised. Never had he thought to advise her or hinder her. Her Captain he was yet she had leave to go along her way. He would not stop her now._

"_I am not daunted" she said.  
_

"_That is what worries me." He shifted his weight. "Stay in Lorien."_

"_I will not."_

"_Then you are mad."_

"_So you have always said." Aniror would tarry no longer. Erthor awaited her, she knew it. _

_She remembered his smile still._

"_You will go by the Redhorn Pass?" Haldir asked as she mounted her horse._

"_Yes."_

"_That way is treacherous."_

"_I have gone before." Aniror dug her hands into the mare's brown mane. She was a small creature, but swift and daring. _

"_You go against the Lady's wishes," Haldir said. He lowered his eyes. "And mine."_

_Aniror nodded. "So it seems. Give my love to Faeleth and the little Pelilas."_

_Haldir sighed. "You _are _a fool, Aniror."_

"_Farewell!" She cast him a final smile and nudged her horse into a canter._

He was right, Aniror thought and shame made her face burn. She should have listened to Haldir…and the Lady.

The journey went well for the first half and most of the second. And she would have made it, but for the Orcs that found her two days ride from the Hollin Gate.

Aniror pressed her warm fingers over her forearm.

_The ground was dry and frozen. The hollow rumble of hooves sounded over the low hills.. Aniror rolled her shoulders and sat up straight. She had not far to go._

_A marked path crawled between the foothills. She followed it and did not feel the danger that pressed upon her, nor the growls that lurked in the dens._

_They came upon her swiftly and she could not turn aside or hope to flee. The company was small but hearty. In a moment the Orcs ringed her horse with curses upon their tongues and swords in their hands._

_Aniror froze, a feeling a desperate nakedness creeping over her. Long had she fought from the branches of tall trees with her kin and now she stood exposed, alone. _

_She drew her sword._

"_In the name of Elbereth!" But her voice trembled. She could not command the Orcs to retreat. "Back! Back I say! You shan't have at me."_

_They laughed, their eyes black beads and their skin like cracked leather. Suddenly Aniror remembered the foul fate of the Lady Celebrian. She shivered._

_The foremost Orc raised his blade and brought it down. Aniror threw her weight to the side to avoid the blow. Her horse slammed into a second Orc, sending the creature sprawling upon the ground._

_The tight circle of foes was broken. Aniror leaned over her horse's neck and they broke away with the wind heightening the howls of the Orcs. The path opened before her, turning around hills and dipping into small vales. She dared to hope._

_But a single arrow found her, burrowing between the bones in her forearm. Aniror shrieked and her blood drenched the horse's flank. _

_The screams behind her died away. _

Aniror sank onto the step outside her door. Warm stars blinked down at her, comforted her.

Fortune was generous and the wound not great. Yet she had been careless that day.

_The sound of ripping fabric split the cold air. Aniror wrapped the strip of her tunic hem about the broken arrow shaft. She flinched upon touching the torn flesh and blood pooled in the crook of her arm._

_Snow fell anew. The delicate flakes brushed her cheeks and stained her dry lips. Which way did the road go? She could not tell. All was shadow._

_Poison. Aniror saw the sticky black liquid drip from the shaft. She lowered her nose to it and sniffed. The stench was light, putrid but mild. This was not the poison of warriors but hunters, meant only to slow the prey. _

_Aniror groaned and stood. Already it twisted her veins and the blood coursing through her. She pulled herself onto the mare's back, her eyes raking the countryside. No creature stirred, no bird sang. How many leagues still lay between her and Imladris?_

_She could not tell. All was shadow._

_But the mare could. With a steady pace she found her way to the road and trotted amongst the hills. The wind cried once then died. Silence reigned._

_Aniror tried to count the passing leagues and mark the land with her eyes. She did not remember the place. The earth spoke foreign riddles. _

_Behind storm clouds the sun set. A ruby sky brought the night with no moon. The poison made wild patterns dance before her eyes. Her lungs were heavy, thick with frozen air. _

_Why did Erthor not come from her?_

_She could not tell. And all fell to shadow._

Fortune indeed, Aniror thought. She leaned her elbows upon her crossed legs. Fortune brought her two leagues outside of Imladris and the keen mind of mare brought her to safety.

But perhaps she should have perished in the Wild. It might have been for the better, to die alone, unlamented, lost.

Her pain would have been lesser then.

_Streams sang in Imladris and Aniror could not bear to remain indoors. She paced upon her terrace, the garden at her feet. Flowers bloomed through winter's frost and the air was clear. _

_Oh how she loved the place._

_The halls of Elrond's home reminded her of pleasant times and soft dreams. Only two years past had she first come there at the biding of Galadriel. For the summer she served with Elrond's guard. They were cheery folk, her Northern kin. Bright and kind and gallant._

_She fell in love._

_Erthor was one of Elrond's captains. Gentle he seemed yet fierce in battle. He was of days past when the world was not cold and dark and hope still lingered for the Elves. _

_She had not wished to part from him, knowing that unspoken words and thoughts of love must lay between them. A year she waited in Lorien until a year seemed like an age and she could no longer stay._

_Of course, the Lady had wished her not return to Imladris, as did Haldir. But what knew they of her love? Erthor must await her. He must. She passed through peril for him._

_Aniror lifted the light bandage covering her forearm. A scar would remain of the wound and nothing more._

_Footsteps sounded across the terrace and Aniror turned. Erthor came to her, his head bowed. Why did such shame darken his eyes?_

_Aniror smiled as she watched him. His hair was not plaited, but fell freely about his waste in gold and his face was keen. Strong he looked, lean with the grace of many battles upon him._

_She sighed. "I knew you would come to me. What kept you?"_

"_Much thought," he said and halted several feet from where she stood. Aniror frowned. Would he not rush to embrace her?_

"_What has brought you hither, warden?" Erthor asked at length. Why did he not speak her name?_

_She shifted. "I have come to you."_

_Erthor lifted his head. Sorrow grew in his grey eyes. "It is as I feared."_

"_What fear?" She stepped forward and he stepped back. "What fear?"_

"_I fear you are mistaken," Erthor said. He stood in the shadow of an old tree, fading from her sight. _

"_I love you," Aniror said. She had not meant to be so direct but the words brewed and bubbled within her._

"_I fear you are mistaken, warden," he said once more. "Forgive me. Had I know of your affection, I would…I would have spoken truthfully from the first."_

"_Erthor!" She could not stop her tears. He withdrew and hurried away. Aniror fell to her knees. Her wound throbbed._

Aniror shut her eyes. She should have killed him then. She should have…she should have…

No. Reason beckoned her and she calmed. No, she would rather him suffer. She would rather him live on in torment.

Aniror did not stay long in Imladris after Erthor's visit. She took her leave, ignoring the advice of the healers and returned to Lorien. A fierce scolding awaited her and Haldir swore he thought her dead. The Lady had presented her with more sympathy.

Two months passed and her grief lessened. Rage took hold, threatening to smother her. Each breeze, each song, each day, reminded her of vengeance. She could no longer stay in Lorien.

Perhaps the Lady sensed her misery. Aniror was called upon and an errand dispatched. She was travel South to Gondor to gather what news she could.

Aniror was no stranger to such tasks. Once more she readied her little mare and took to the road.

A month she spent in the Wild. And she should have returned home before another passed.

She should not have passed through Ithilien.

_Aniror saw him first through the veil of leaves and bramble. Tall he was and lordly. His hair fell to his shoulders and his eyes…his eyes were Erthor's._

_She waited. He passed from her eyesight but not from her vision. The moon rose and she settled herself into a darkened glade. Summer thickened the grass._

_She called to him and he came._

_He stood at first by the edge of the glade. She smiled._

"_Come. Come."_

_He did not think to hesitate. Faramir stepped into the glade with his hood cast back. Stars guarded and guided him._

"_An Elf?" His question made her laugh. "How came you here?"_

"_By darkened roads."_

"_Why?"_

"_Do not ask a question there is no answer to."_

_He dared to draw closer. Aniror removed her mantle._

"_Come. Come."_

_And he fell into her embrace._

Aniror stood slowly. The night was passing and the stars already dimmed.

What could she do?

Below upon the forest floor, the Great Gates swung open to admit the company from Imladris. Aniror shrank against her door, fearing Erthor's sight.

What could she do?

* * *

**Author's Note: **Thank you so much reading! Please, take the time to review and share your thoughts with me. All comments are greatly appreciated. 


	12. Chapter Twelve Discovery

**Author's Note: **Hello and welcome to chapter twelve of "Wounded". I'd like to thank everyone who took the time to read and review the last chapter, **Nari-chan SND**, **MerryKK**, **Awen1923**, and**childofGod-4ever**. And as to **alien ()**, if you'd like to translate your review, I'd love to hear your criticism, whether it be positive or negative. As always I do not have a beta and while I have proofread this chapter many times, I am sure I have not caught all my mistakes. Any errors that appear in canon, grammar or spelling are my fault and my fault alone. I hope you enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **I claim not ownership of Tolkien's masterpiece.

**Chapter Twelve Discovery **

Boromir watched as Faramir cut into a peach with a small knife. His brother's movements were slow, deliberate, not born from a Ranger's swiftness. He glared down at his bowl and stirred the porridge with a spoon. Morning light glanced upon the windows. The curtains rippled in the southerly wind.

Gondor called.

And yet Faramir was oblivious, too intent upon his peach and breakfast to even glance up.

Curse that wretched Aniror. Curse her for stealing his brother, his comrade…his friend.

Boromir stood and shoved back his chair with exaggerated force. It wobbled, then hit the ground with a loud thud. Faramir looked up at last.

"Brother?"

"I weep for you, Faramir!" Boromir was shouting and he did not bother to check his voice. He leaned over the table, grasping Faramir by the shoulders.

"Boromir, what ails you?" Faramir laid his hand upon his brother's and pushed himself to a stand. There was a chill upon his flesh that made Boromir's skin prickle.

"I should have known it from the first," Boromir growled. "I was blinded. The pallor of your skin, the indifference in your glance. I should have known it!"

"I am well," Faramir said. "Why should you think otherwise?"

"Do you not sigh for the call of Gondor? Do you not yearn from the walls of the White City?"

Faramir stared at him. Boromir felt his rage overflow. He shook his brother fiercely and pinned him to the wall. Faramir did not struggle against his grasp.

"Do you not see it?" Boromir felt tears upon his face. "Do you not see what she has done to you?"

At last, Faramir fought back. His eyes flashed and he pushed Boromir back.

"Speak no ill of Aniror!" he cried. "Speak no ill of the one I love!"

Boromir fell against the table. The cups and plates rattled. A pitcher of wine tumbled to the floor.

"You know not what you say," Boromir breathed. Was this his brother who stood before him or a cruel specter of dismay? "Faramir, please."

Faramir turned away from him. "Your jealousy betrays you."

"Jealousy?"

"I see it in your eyes," Faramir continued. His voice sounded high, panicked. "That certain look of love, of lust! You would think to have Aniror for yourself."

"What lie is this? Faramir, Faramir, listen to your words!" Boromir stepped forward and placed his hand upon his brother's shoulder. Faramir flinched.

"I care not for Aniror."

"So you say," Faramir muttered.

"Listen, I beg of you, listen." Boromir turned Faramir about but his brother would not meet his gaze. "I fear for you, Faramir. I fear for the darkness in your eyes and the hope that seems to dwindle each day."

He paused and took a shaky breath. "Here you stand, a Captain of Gondor, great amongst your men and those of the White City. Will you let her use you so? Can you not see it? You are her pawn!"

"I am nothing of the sort!" Faramir said, but fear struck his face and glinted in his gaze. "I am nothing…nothing of the sort."

"Has the glory of the White City diminished so much?" Boromir asked. "You were led astray, brother, away from your place. We cannot linger here. Gondor calls for us."

"Then what will you do?"

"I leave on the morrow. With or without your company."

Boromir hated the anger that filled his brother. Faramir began to tremble.

"I do not think you would. What would father say? He gave leave for us both to go and he wishes us both to return."

"I do not bar you from returning with me, brother," Boromir said. "I beg it of you. Come, let us leave this place. Forget Aniror and what she has dared to do to you. Let it all be forgotten."

Faramir sighed, a deep and mournful sigh that threatened to tear Boromir's heart in half. He stumbled over to the table and sank into his chair.

"I need one more day."

"Why?"

"Please." Faramir glanced at him. "Just one more day and then I go with you."

Boromir nodded. "Very well, little brother. One more day I give you."

Faramir quit the Lady's talan and walked throughout Caras Galadhon. A new sun danced by the eastern horizon, the light warming his every limb.

Boromir was right. Oh, he was right.

Faramir forced away his tears. Aniror had betrayed him, bewitched and bewildered him until his shadow alone remained. How had he not seen it? How had he not sensed it?

He felt shame…and anger. How dare she? How dare she take him from Gondor and force him to wander through endless peril in search of a lie. No, perhaps she should be ashamed. Not him. He had done no wrong.

Faramir paused by a fountain. The water murmured lost words and he shut his eyes. He had awakened from a heady dream.

Faramir sighed. He almost wished it had been a dream. His brother was wise. Aniror was best left forgotten.

But did she ever love him? That question seemed fated to plague him. Could she love him?

No. Love between mortals and Elves was a rare thing and certainly not gifted to him.

He glanced down at the front of his tunic, where the White Tree grew in silver. A proud captain. He had once been a proud captain. Would he ever be so again?

"Lord Faramir?" The voice struck him from behind. Faramir whirled about and caught sight of Haldir. The Elf smiled.

"I was hoping to see you this day," he said. He bowed his head in greeting. "Tell me, did my wife Faeleth prove herself to be a good hostess?"

"Ah yes." Faramir found a smile of his own. "I thank you both for such kindly hospitality. It was most welcomed and needed." He paused, raising a brow. "Were you not gone to the borders?"

Haldir nodded in understanding. "I returned last eve. A company of Imladris Elves has passed into the Wood and I guided them hither. Have you yet seen them?"

"No. I have just now left my quarters this morn."

"Well, it seems you shall have the chance," Haldir said. "The Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn have sent me to find you. It is rare for our Wood to play host to so many. A feast shall be held tonight to honor such an occasion. Would you and your brother think to attend? I know it would please the Lady so."

"Then there is no question in my mind," Faramir replied. "If it should please your Lady we shall be present. So much is owed to her."

"It is well then," Haldir said and turned upon his heel. "Forgive my sudden departure, but I must see to my wife. She worries so when I am gone. Farewell."

Faramir watched him step away, but something tugged at his thoughts. A riddle remained unanswered. He must know.

"Captain, a moment more!" he called. Haldir stopped and turned. "There is one thing I would ask you," Faramir continued. "One thing I would know."

"Aniror?" Haldir seemed to read his mind. Perhaps he could.

"Yes, Aniror."

Haldir lifted his chin. "What would you know?"

Faramir looked to the side, his mind barreling ahead. Haldir seemed to be a wise Elf, but was he trustworthy? He sighed. "I would know why she has led me here."

"Many reasons."

"I must know before I take my leave."

"Then I will tell you what I can," Haldir said. "It is foul that you should have met one such as her. My kin are kindhearted not wicked, not cruel. But I will tell you the full of it, as I know."

Faramir forced his gaze back to Haldir. "Speak then."

"Aniror loved an Elf, Erthor, the Captain of Imladris," he said. Faramir's eyes widened. "Yes, the very Elf that has of late arrived in Lorien. But you must understand, he did not share her affection. Lordly was he, too lordly I think for her. Aniror made the foolish error of seeking him out, a journey which left her with the scar you spoke of. He rebuffed her, gently. But Aniror is a cold creature. She wished for revenge."

Haldir paused and pity took him. He looked at Faramir sadly. "I am sorry to say that you shaped her revenge or so it is believed."

Faramir bit the inside of his lip. His anger abounded, fresh and sharp. He had been used.

"And I think she would have had little do with you now, had she not lost her place on the guard."

"She spoke not of that!" Faramir said and his head snapped up. "She told me she had taken leave for my sake."

"A lie, my lord. Aniror wishes to regain her position. As you are the son of the Steward, she hoped you would help her."

Faramir snorted. "I have little power here. How should I accomplish such a task?"

A small smile touched Haldir's lips. "Never was Aniror considered the wisest of my kind."

"I understand it now," Faramir said. He clenched his hands into fists. Sweat made his fingers slick. "And I am pained for the knowledge of it." His heart beat slow and it pulsed along with the great wave of grief that threatened him.

Faramir's head spun. He sank onto the ground beside the fountain. The cool spray of it whispered down his neck. Humility darkened his countenance with a blush. She had toyed with him for sport. He had been _used _for sport.

What should his men think of him? His father? No, they must never find out. Never…

"I am sorry," Haldir said at length. The morning sun was at his back and light wove about him.

"My brother thought to warn me," Faramir replied. "But I did not wish to see."

"Persuasion masks much along with guile. Aniror has the fortune to possess both."

"But I was willing." Faramir glanced up at him.

"The fault does not lay with you, only with one of a lesser mind," Haldir said. "Perhaps you might think to pity her someday, my lord. Think of her utter desperation. I do not excuse what she has done, but I do feel pity. Without friend or kin, she is. Those she loved have cast her off. Harsh she is, but humbled. Think of that."

"I cannot see it," Faramir said. He rested his head upon the basin of the fountain and felt the water rumble beneath the stone.

"In time," Haldir said. He turned about and began to move away. "In time."

Faramir sat beneath the fountain until the sky was tinted with noon. Bitterness overcame him and he wept. And then his anger rose and he cursed. But never did he feel pity.

The trees sang to him, comforting songs that reminded him of his mother's voice. What would she think of him, her young son, tricked and used and so utterly foolish? He always fancied she watched over him but now he wished her eyes blind.

And Boromir, kind Boromir. His brother had pulled him free from the jaws of ruin, his own dear brother whom he had forced along with him.

Faramir traced the White Tree upon his tunic with his fingers. The familiar pattern soothed him. It seemed careless to leave Lorien and cast away all memory of it. Would he ever fully be healed from Aniror's enchantment then?

No. The answer came to him at once. Something still kept him here, silent and undefined. It would haunt him until the end of his days. Aniror would always hold sway over him.

He stood. There was one more thing which he must do, a wrong he must right. Aniror would be faced with her evil and with him, no longer a human weakling, but Faramir Captain of Gondor.

Leaving the fountain, Faramir took up the stone path that led to Aniror's talan.

The city was noisy this day, Faramir noted as he stood before Aniror's door. Birds sang and the trees murmured and fair Elven voices could be heard. The coming of the Imladris Elves had done much to awaken the folk of Caras Galadhon.

Only Aniror's talan remained silent, separated from the others. Was she home? Faramir raised his hand and knocked. Silence answered him.

He waited, then knocked again. More silence.

Finally, he sighed and resolved to call to her. "Aniror! It is Captain Faramir. I must speak with you."

He heard no footsteps, no reply. But in a moment the door swung open and she stood before him.

Faramir took a step back. Her eyes were stained with red. Had she been crying? No, he had never heard of Elves weeping so.

"Have I disturbed you?" he asked politely. Rage swarmed within him and he felt the weight of it upon his chest. He had to stay calm.

"No." She shook her head. "Why have you come?"

"A simple matter," he said. Aniror leaned upon the door, staring. Oh what her gaze still did to him. Faramir looked away. "Your Lady holds a feast tonight, in honor of my arrival in Lorien. Will you attend with me? I should not like to go alone."

Her eyes narrowed suddenly. "Does your brother not go along?"

"Yes, but I wish for your company."

"I…well…" She glanced over his head. He saw cold calculation in her eyes and fear. Fear?

"Please, you must come." Faramir lowered his voice and allowed desperation to seep into his tone. Let her think she still had him in her grasp. "There are several matters I am to discuss with your Lady and Lord. I think it would be best if you were present at such a time."

Aniror's eyes widened and greed took her. Undoubtedly, she thought he had won her a lofty position.

"I shall come," she said with a firm nod of her head. "Yes, I shall come."

Faramir laughed with relief and false joy. "I am pleased. Tonight then?"

Aniror smiled or tried to. "Tonight." She shut her door and Faramir took a step back.

Yes, until tonight.

**Author's Note: **Thank you for reading! Please take the time to leave a review and share your thoughts with me. All feedback is greatly appreciated.


	13. Chapter Thirteen Erthor's Tidings

**Author's Note: **Hello and welcome to chapter thirteen of "Wounded". I'd like to thank everyone who took the time to read and review the last chapter, **Nari-chan SND**, **MerryKK**, **Awen1923**, **childofGod-4ever **and **enkemeniel**. As always I do not have a beta and while I have proofread this chapter many times, I am sure I have not caught all my mistakes. Any errors that appear in canon, grammar or spelling are my fault and my fault alone. I hope you enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **I claim no ownership of Tolkien's masterpiece.

**Chapter Thirteen Erthor's Tidings**

"Tell me, Captain Erthor, how fares Lord Elrond?" Lady Galadriel let a smile curve her lips as she watched the tall Elf bow his head in respect.

"Well, my lady. He sends his warmest greetings," Erthor replied.

"And the young ones?" Lord Celeborn asked. He sat beside his wife in the greeting hall of their talan. Erthor stood before them still garbed in his green traveling tunic. Mud stained boots and his hair was held in a tight gold plait.

A sign of splendor from the old days, Galadriel thought as she looked upon him. Sorrow touched her. Time had dimmed Erthor's handsome face, but not his eyes. No, they were still light with hope and thoughts of the sea.

"The Lady Arwen grows in beauty still," Erthor said. "And the Lords Elladan and Elrohir are often abroad in the Wild of late. I have gone with them on several occasions and many a fell beast we slew."

Galadriel sighed. She could not think of her young grandsons trapped in some shadowed glade hemmed by foes. Had the cheer of their youth faded? Or had the darkness of the age fallen upon them?

"It is good then," she said and managed to keep her smile in place for Erthor. He had not come to the Golden Wood in many a year. Though of late she did not miss his presence, if only to stay the rage of Aniror. Her former warden would certainly not be pleased by his arrival, especially at such a time. But Galadriel hoped that Aniror knew to keep her secrets to herself and much grief would be avoided.

"Why have you come?" Lord Celeborn asked. Late morning sun drenched the hall. Servants moved about in silence. A small feast had been planned for that night and preparations were underway.

"To gather and share news at Lord Elrond's behest," Erthor said. "I bring with me a small company of warriors. If any help might be given, we shall gladly offer our aid."

Galadriel caught his gaze and held it for a moment. She wondered if there was some part of him that wished to see Aniror and right a perceived wrong. But Erthor's glance was pure and no other thought crossed his mind.

"It is strange you should come at such a time," she said at length. "Our Wood plays host to two other travelers, Boromir and Faramir, sons of Denethor, the Steward of Gondor."

Erthor shook his head in surprise. "What has brought them hither?"

Galadriel felt the stare of her husband upon her. No, the truth must not be spoken. Not now.

"They seek tidings of the world as well," she said. "For three weeks they have dwelled here and are soon to leave. You shall meet with tonight, if that is agreeable. I am sure much news will be gained from them. Men from the South and Elves from Imladris rarely cross paths."

"Indeed, my lady," Erthor said. "I shall be pleased to speak with them."

"Go now," Celeborn said. "You must find rest, for long have you traveled and weary is your mind."

Erthor bowed his head once more in respect, murmuring his thanks.

They watched him go and when he had passed beyond the doors, Celeborn turned to his wife.

"Should the truth have been told to him?"

"I do not think so," she replied. "What good would it have done? If he should chance to meet with Aniror, she will say nothing."

"And what of the Men?" Celeborn questioned. "What of Captain Faramir?"

Galadriel regarded him with clear eyes. "He is wise. I do not fear an ill turn in his judgment."

Celeborn sat back in his chair. "So I hope."

* * *

Faramir paused by the doors to dining hall. Light reached its long fingers out of the windows and through the open doors. Aniror shifted, her arm held in the crook of his. Boromir trailed behind them with a disgruntled look on his face. Faramir glanced at his brother over his shoulder. Aniror and Boromir had said nary a word to each other all evening outside of a terse greeting.

But he had no mind to question their behavior this night. An Elven guard stood by the door and guided them inside. Aniror began to drag behind.

"What is it?" Faramir asked.

She shook her head. "Nothing. I am well."

They were led to entrance of the dining hall, in center of which sat a long table draped in gold and silver. In two high seats situated by the center sat the Lord and Lady. Upon either side a company of Elves was seated. Faramir recognized Haldir, his wife Faeleth and both his brothers. To Galadriel's right there sat another Elf he did not know and a maid.

The guard announced their arrival in a loud voice and they came to the table. The company stood to greet them.

"My Lords Boromir and Faramir," Lord Celeborn said with smile. He gestured to the Elf by Galadriel's right. "This is the Captain of the Imladris guard."

The Elf stood and raised his hand in greeting. "My lords."

Faramir was about to respond but Aniror spoke first. She released his arm and stepped forward. "Greetings, Erthor."

"Warden Aniror," he said and his smile became forced. She did not bother to correct his misuse of title.

Faramir glanced at her face but she looked away, her hair veiling it from him. With considerable tension, the company was seated once more.

* * *

Never before had Faramir witnessed such a change in character. Aniror sat beside him, shoulders bent, eyes fixed upon the table. Her face was pale, her hair dull. She could not be the Elf he knew, or thought he knew.

This Elf was neither fair nor kind nor wise. She did not speak of poems and lore. She did not laugh as light as a summer bird. And she did not smile, no she never smiled.

Faramir had wanted her to face her wrongdoing, to sit with him before Erthor and wallow in her revenge. He had wanted her to feel ashamed or repentant or at uncomfortable.

But he had not expected her to be crestfallen.

Faramir watched as she reached for her wine goblet and touched to her lips. Slow were her movements, labored.

"The wine is sweet," he said as she drank. Aniror lowered her goblet.

"No," she said. "Bitter. I can drink no more of it."

"Is that not strange," he replied. She would not look at him. Faramir fought the urge to grab her chin and turn her eyes to meet his. "Our tastes must differ or perhaps the wine deceives us?"

She snorted and the sound was lost in the light conversation of the other guests. "Wine does not deceive, my lord."

My lord? She had never addressed him with such respect. Faramir sat back in his chair, amused. Aniror had lost her hold over him.

"I wonder who she is." Boromir said to his right. His brother pointed to an Elf maid seated by Erthor's left. "Fair, is she not?"

"Yes," Faramir said. The maid had hazel hair and a soft face, not hard like Aniror's. "She is from Imladris, I should think."

"I do not know her," Aniror said suddenly. Faramir turned to gaze at her. "I do not know that maid," Aniror repeated. Something brewed in her voice, jealousy? He could not tell. She was a mystery to him, a mystery best left unsolved.

Across the table Haldir and Faeleth sat elbow to elbow, laughing.

"I have come to think that Pelilas shall not be a warden," Haldir said. Faeleth nodded in agreement.

"No, not at all." She leaned across her husband and addressed Lord Celeborn. "He is a craftsman. Already he has carved a little army of his own!"

Lord Celeborn smiled as did Lady Galadriel beside him.

"The son of Haldir as a craftsman," Lord Celeborn mused. "Never did one foresee such a turn."

"You speak as if it were wretched," the Lady said. Her keen voice swept over the table. "I think not. Mighty is one who holds such a talent. Haldir and Faeleth should feel nothing but pride. Shame is wasted." She turned her eyes to Aniror for an instant and Aniror flinched.

The feast continued and servants brought more wine about. Boromir found happy conversation with the Lord Celeborn, Haldir and Erthor. Faramir half listened as they discussed military matters and the changing of the world. His attention stayed with Aniror

"Still glory resides in Minas Tirith," Boromir boasted. His face was cheery with wine. "Mighty are our men and thick are our walls. Do you not agree, dear brother?"

"Yes," Faramir replied belatedly, earning a quizzical look from Boromir. "Long have the Men of Minas Tirith defended the West from shadow."

"And long may the West hasten to aid the Men of Gondor." Lord Celeborn raised his goblet in toast and the rest of the company followed suit. After they drank, Lord Celeborn once more turned to Boromir.

"There is no oath I can swear or promise I may give," he said. "But should the tide turn and darkness brew, we shall do what we can for the world of Men."

Boromir nodded and Faramir thought he saw tears glisten in his eyes.

"Thank you, my lord," Boromir said. He then raised his goblet. "To the splendor of the Elves, forever undimmed and unchanged!"

Once more the company rose in toast and as Faramir stood, he noticed Erthor missing from the table. And Aniror.

He drained his goblet but did not sit along with the company.

"Forgive me," he said and bowed. "I must take my leave."

Farewells were exchanged and Boromir made to stand. But Faramir shook his head.

"Stay," he said. "I do not go far."

Boromir nodded and turned back to his conversation. Faramir passed through the open doors of the dining hall, moving to the winding staircase that led from the talan. Where could they have gone?

He thought to search the forest floor, but voices from a nearby balcony reached his ears. Erthor and Aniror stood upon a terrace that branched from the talan. Both leaned upon the railing and Faramir could only see their backs.

"I never expected your arrival," Aniror said in a low voice. Faramir moved to the edge of the staircase to better hear. "Not at such time, at least. Never at such a time."

"What time?" Erthor asked. He did not stand close to Aniror, but several feet away. His hands were pressed upon the railing.

Aniror paused before speaking. "So much has happened."

"But you look quite well, better than the last time we met."

"So much has happened," Aniror repeated. She shook her head. "I dare not tell the full of it."

"What then?" Erthor asked.

Aniror seemed to shiver or so Faramir thought. She looked small, frightened, alone.

"That man," she said at length. "Faramir of Gondor."

"Yes." Erthor shifted and crossed his hands over his middle. "What of him?"

"He is my husband."

Faramir froze. Her husband? She thought of him as her husband?

"I am happy for you," Erthor said. "If I may ask, how did it come about?"

"In Ithilien, nearly eight months past," she said. "I met him there while abroad and fell in love. He has just now come to Lorien."

Faramir expected to feel anger or some sense of injustice. But pity alone filled him. What sort of creature would lie so?

"I am happy for you," Erthor said once more. "I feared for you, after…" He trailed off. Aniror said nothing and the two stood in silence for a long while.

"Perhaps now I may speak of my news," Erthor said at last. Pride slipped into his voice. "Did you see the maiden who sat at my left throughout the evening?"

"Yes." Aniror straightened, leaving the railing. "Yes, I did."

"Her name is Rodwen and we are betrothed."

Aniror sagged.

"She serves as a scout in Imladris," Erthor continued. "I love her as I know you must love your husband. Is it not fortunate that we have both found happiness?"

Aniror did not reply. She stumbled back and stared at Erthor. Faramir caught a glimpse of her face and the devastation that cloaked it. Yes, he did pity her.

Without a word, Aniror fled the balcony.

* * *

He found her in one of the more secluded gardens. The sky was thick with stars and held a thin moon. Faramir paused by the archway that framed the entrance. Aniror sat between a hedge and a patch of elanor. Her head was cradled in her hands.

Faramir stepped into the garden. "Your husband I am?"

Aniror's head snapped up. Her eyes were wet. "I…I did not think you heard."

"Caution does not seem to be a particular talent of yours," he said and hovered over her. She folded her knees close to her chest.

"There is little harm done. He shall leave Lothlorien before the month closes."

"And so shall I." Faramir thought he heard Aniror gasp but the wind whined and played tricks.

"When?"

"On the morrow."

She stood then. A tear dropped down her cheek. "You cannot."

"I cannot?" Faramir raised a brow. "I suppose you believe that I am yours to do with what you will."

Aniror opened her mouth to argue, but Faramir interrupted her.

"Make no mistake, Aniror. I am a Captain of Gondor. You hold no sway over me."

Suddenly, she grasped his hand. Gone was disgust at physical contact. Aniror pulled close to him, her knees brushing against his. "But you cannot. I need you here."

"For the sake of vengeance?" he countered. "To fulfill some wasted hope of yours? I think not."

He shook her off, none too gently. "I should be half mad with rage but pity stays my hand. I pity you Aniror, poor lowly creature that you are." Faramir turned to leave the garden but she was on his heels.

"Perhaps pity moves your heart." Her hand latched onto his shoulder. She dragged him back. "Would you leave me here, I wonder. Would you leave me alone and bereft of friendship? This is as much your doing as mine. I would have been captain had you not come to Lorien!" Her voice verged on hysteria.

Faramir halted and Aniror flew into his arms, sobbing. "You cannot leave me here! You cannot! I have nothing to claim, no rank, no life! Would you leave me so?"

And then she fell to the ground, pulling him along. Faramir fell across her legs, his stomach crushed against her knees. He pushed himself upright and tried to catch his breath. But Aniror would not release him.

"You would not leave me so, Faramir. You would not," she said. "I know who you are, caring and kind. You would not leave me so." One hand traced the White Tree on his tunic.

Faramir's heartbeat quickened. He reached for her hand and tried to pull it away. "Enough, Aniror."

"Would you deny yourself what you came here for?" she asked. "Do not think me naïve, beloved. I know where your mind wanders. I know what tempts you." She kissed his jaw, trailing along his cheek until she came to his lips.

This time Faramir did not try to stand.

"One night you have in Lorien," she said. "One last night."

He let her kiss him for a moment, unable to deny the temptation that coursed through him. But then he remembered his promise to Boromir, his forgotten sense of duty. He could not linger in Lorien for an age as her pet.

Faramir pushed her away and scrambled to his feet.

"Enough Aniror," he said. "It is enough."

She tried to stand, to whisper some poisonous word in his ear. But Faramir only offered her a final sad smile and left the garden.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Thank you for reading! Please take the time to leave a review and share your thoughts with me. All feedback is greatly appreciated. Chapter fourteen will be up on Tuesday. 


	14. Chapter Fourteen Revenge

**Author's Note: **Hello and welcome to chapter fourteen of "Wounded". I would like to thank everyone who took the time to read and review the last chapter, **MerryKK**, **Nari-chan SND**, **Awen1923**, **childofGod-4ever**, **Sarahbarr17**, and **enkemeniel**. Thank you all so much for your kind words! As always I do not have a beta and while I have proofread this chapter many times, I am sure I have not caught all my mistakes. Any errors that appear in canon, grammar or spelling are my fault and my fault alone. I hope you enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **I claim no ownership of Tolkien's masterpiece.

**Chapter Fourteen Revenge**

Dawn descended before Faramir woke. And when he did it was with a jolt and a gasp. Wide hedges shielded his body and he lay by a stone bench.

How embarrassing. How terribly embarrassing.

He sat up and glanced around the garden. No Elves moved about. The city was still. Perhaps no one had seen him, the Captain of Gondor, asleep in the grass.

Oh how embarrassing.

His cheeks burned when he realized that he must have dozed while sitting in thought during the late hours. After leaving Aniror, he had wandered for a long while in the gardens of Caras Galadhon, coming to rest in one glade when the moon finally fell from the sky. Aniror had not followed him and he knew it was for the best. She would not miss him. And he simply would not think of her. Yes, it was best that way.

Faramir stood, picking the grass from his hair. The sun was not yet high in the sky. Several morning birds lit upon a rose bush and began to sing. The earth had chilled his limbs and he shivered.

Poor Boromir must be mad with worry, he thought ashamedly. Or perhaps Boromir knew exactly where he was.

But it mattered not now. They would leave the city together at once and never look back. Let Aniror stay where she belonged, bereft of friendship or not. She was not his responsibility. She never was.

Faramir left the garden and hurried up the stone path back to the Lady's talan. He kept his head down and pace quick. With any luck, he would not be spotted.

Perhaps I am a weakling, he thought and doubt jabbed at him. He should never have given in to her in Ithilien. No, he should have left her there whining and crying and lamenting as he had the previous night.

Faramir shook his head. His hair splayed across his shoulders. It did not matter now. Nothing did. The journey to Lorien had secured diplomatic ties if nothing else. Upon returning to Minas Tirith they would tell their father some satisfying lie and let the memory fade. In time, he knew he would forget.

Or so he hoped.

Despite his shame, Faramir felt a certain sense of relief as he made his way through Caras Galadhon. No longer did he feel the suffocation of Aniror's treacherous hold upon him. His mind and body were free, no longer lost to her breathy voice and heady glance.

He was free.

Faramir lengthened his strides, his face upturned. A warm sun shone. Spring was turning to summer.

He was free.

A smile came to his lips and he laughed.

He was free.

* * *

Boromir was busying himself with a pair of small packs when Faramir entered the chamber. He did not look up but sighed and shut the clasp on one bag.

Faramir hesitated by the door, wondering how best to approach the situation. Something upon the table caught his eye. Wafers of honey-colored bread were wrapped in a packet of leaves. He moved closer and broke off a corner, bringing it to his lips.

The taste was strangely sweet and satisfying. He raised a brow.

"What is this?"

Boromir finally looked up, one had pressed to his knee. "The waybread of the Elves. Lembas, they call it. They provided us with enough to last during the journey back to Gondor. Though unfortunately it seems that I am fated to travel alone."

"Alone?" Faramir asked. His brother was frowning and at once he understood. "Not alone," he said. "We go together."

Boromir stood. "Are you certain?"

"Why should I not be?"

Boromir's grey eyes suddenly widened and a smile made his face easy. "You come with me? You mean to leave Lorien this day?"

"Yes." Faramir strode across the room and examined the packs. They were light, easy to carry if strap upon the saddle of a horse. "I promised you so."

"I had thought…" Boromir began to mutter but did not finish.

"No, it is over," Faramir replied. He raked his hand through his hair, pulling free the tangles. "And I think it is best left forgotten."

"As you wish." Boromir looked stunned. In silence, the brothers continued to pack until at length, Boromir spoke once more. "Are you certain?" He repeated. Hesitancy filled his voice.

Faramir raised his eyes to his brother as he laced his traveling boots. "Of course."

Boromir paced across the room. His large shoulders were slumped. "I am sorry, Faramir."

"Why?" Faramir watched him as he walked. "It is I who should find cause to apologize, after all I have done, the lies I have dared to whisper."

"The fault was not yours." Boromir waved his hand dismissively. "But I would know…I would know. Did you love her?"

Faramir stiffened. He had never expected such a question from Boromir and he was surprised to find he had a ready answer.

"Not at all," he replied. "Yet I pity her and pity softens my heart. Would you not think to pity such a creature, brother?"

Boromir paused. "No," he said. "But you are a better man than I."

Tears touched Faramir's eyes but he willed them away. "Come," he managed to answer. "We must be ready by noon."

* * *

Aniror loosed another arrow and scowled when it smashed into the target. It should be Erthor's head, she thought. Her left hand groped through a pile of arrows by her feet and she readied her bow once more. Another missile sailed across the range, another dart planted in Erthor's brow.

The archery range was empty and for that she was glad. Only guards had business in such a place and she was no longer a guard. Haldir could appear at any moment to scold her and send her away. Aniror did not think she could stand that. She might throttle him after all.

The air felt mild but Aniror's flesh burned. Erthor would wed that horrid little she-Elf, that horrid little Rodwen. She ought to kill _her_. Yes, she should. Then what would Erthor do? Oh he would come back to her maybe and weep tears of regret and blood. And oh she would scorn him just as he had dared to scorn her.

Let him rot and turn to clay. Let them both die.

A breeze caused the trees to shiver. She lowered her bow for an instant and watched the leaves twitch. Faramir's smile came to mind.

Perhaps she should let him rot and turn to clay as well.

But strangely, no anger came to mind as she thought of him, no seething rage and putrid disgust. In end, she felt nothing and could only imagine him as that pale, young Man with a sad smile.

Should she go to him and wish him a final farewell?

No, last night had been enough of farewell. Best leave things as they were. But still she wondered, what must he think of her now?

Two guards entered the range, their longbows slung over their shoulders. Aniror ducked her head. Valar, let them not recognize her.

Fortunately, the two seemed too preoccupied with jests and laughter to notice her where she stood. Head still bowed, Aniror shifted the pile of arrows beside her and searched for another one.

The chatter of the new arrivals was loud and between volleys, they paused to converse.

"…word from the Southeast."

"…the Anduin…"

"…seen last eve and this morn…"

"…up from Rohan perhaps. Orcs…"

Aniror half-listened. She wished for the days when their talk might mean something to her and she would race from the city to seek out fresh reports. But no more.

She would be bound to a life of boredom. In her mind she envisioned herself languishing away in a talan similar to Faeleth's, needle and thread in hand. Gone were the days of glory. Gone were the days of hope.

What happiness could she expect?

Aniror loosed an arrow. It struck the bottom half of the target, far from her mark. She sighed. Already, her skills weakened.

The two guards soon left the range, their chatter coursing back in warm streams. Another Elf entered, her hair tied behind her ears and an annoying smile upon her face. She paused to gaze around.

Aniror ignored her. The Elf seemed unsure of where she stood and her head swiveled about in every direction. With any luck she would…

"Oh good morn!" The gleeful cry ripped through Aniror like a newly sharpened blade. She looked up and was horrified to see the Elf striding closer. Why did she look familiar?

"May I ask a question of you?"

"What sort?" Aniror leaned upon her bow, eyeing the maid with suspicion. "And who are you?"

Her tone must have been harsh, for the maid's smile faded a bit and she stepped back.

"Rodwen. I came with my company from Imladris," she replied.

Aniror's hands curled about her bow. Her fingers tingled. One arrow, one shot. Oh Valar it would only take one shot.

"Are you a guard?" Rodwen asked. She seemed undaunted.

"Yes." Aniror fought to control the rage in her voice. Rodwen did not notice.

"Then I have a question I must ask of you," she said. "I am to lead a party of scouts along the Southeastern border of the Wood. Have there been any reports of Orcs?"

"No." Aniror could not stop herself now. She was dizzy with anger and intoxicated with the mere thought of revenge. Vengeance was a heady elixir, she thought. One that no earthly substance could bring about or abate.

"There has been no report," she continued. "The borders are clear and calm. Go, if you will. The way is open."

Rodwen looked relieved and Aniror relished in the new smile that formed upon her lips. Hopefully, it would be her last.

"My deepest thanks," she said. Turning, she left the glade.

Aniror did not watch her go. Instead, she reached for another arrow and loosed it upon the target. It landed in the center.

* * *

"How long shall this take?" Boromir was pacing and his sword swung from his hip. Faramir sat on the grass with his cloak thrown about his shoulders.

"Not much longer, my lords." Haldir was apologetic. "I am sorry for this delay but we have had word of Orcs about the borders. It would be foul to let you cross into such danger."

Boromir paused and stared at the Elf. Faramir saw how his patience had dissolved. His brother was eager to be on their way.

He, however, was content to sit upon the grass a mile from the border and wait. A long journey lay before them and he would take what rest he could.

Boromir resumed his pacing. Haldir shifted his weight and conversed with several of his Elf companions. Faramir watched the clouds turn in the bright sky.

Aniror had not come to bid him farewell and for that he would be forever grateful.

Haldir suddenly turned from his companions, strolling closer to Faramir. Concern made his darkened his eyes and Faramir offered him a small smile.

"Are you well, my lord?" he asked softly. Boromir was too distracted with his pacing to hear.

"Yes," Faramir replied.

Haldir paused and glanced about uncomfortably. Assuring himself that no one listened, he looked back at Faramir. "Is there any message you would wish me to give? Any farewell?"

Faramir shook his head. "All necessary words have passed between us and they were even few. No doubt or fear lingers in my mind."

"And for that I am most glad," Haldir said. He patted Faramir upon the shoulder and returned to his companions.

The air was still and in the distance, a high cry could be heard. The Elves at once tilted their heads to the side to listen. Boromir stopped pacing and Faramir stood.

"Yrch! Yrch!"

Something moved through the trees.

"Yrch! Yrch!"

Faramir grasped the hilt of his sword.

"Yrch!"

An Elf parted the thin branches before them and rushed into the glade. His face was marred with fear.

"By the borders!" he cried. "Yrch! A company of Elves is trapped."

"Alas!" Haldir shouted. "We must make haste!" His companions took their longbows from their shoulders.

Boromir glanced at Faramir and the brothers agreed at once.

"We go with you," Boromir said.

Haldir paused, but only for an instant.

"Hurry then!" he ordered and dashed through the trees.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Thanks so much for reading! Please take the time to leave a review and share your thoughts with me. All feedback is greatly appreciated. The last chapter, chapter fifteen, will be up on Thursday and then it is off to the sequel **The Price of Pity**. Thanks again! 


	15. Chapter Fifteen Pity

**Author's Note: **Well, here it is, the final chapter of "Wounded". I am not sure what you will think of the ending as it is, hmm, not exactly canon-abiding, but I look forward to hearing your feedback. I would like to thank everyone who read and reviewed this story and also everyone who read but did not review. Thank you all! Also, thanks to **MerryKK**, **Nari-chan SND**, **Awen1923**, **childofGod-4ever**, and** enkemeniel **for reviewing the last chapter. As always I do not have a beta and while I have proofread this chapter many times, I am sure I have not caught all my mistakes. Any errors that appear in canon, grammar or spelling are my fault and my fault alone. I hope you enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **I claim no ownership of Tolkien's masterpiece.

**Chapter Fifteen Pity**

They were running, a cold wind rushing about their limbs and gnawing at their flesh. Spring had melted into the frigid touch of winter or so it seemed to Faramir. The sky grayed and sent rain dashing into his eyes. He squinted and blinked and tried to drive the sting away. One hand found his sword.

With a fleeting glance, he caught sight of Boromir racing beside him. The trees lashed them and the Elves had all but disappeared in their haste to aid their kin. All that remained was his brother and the same cry that brokenly poured into the air.

"Yrch! Yrch!"

It sent tremors dancing up Faramir's spine. But his battle-hardened mind ignored the empty promise of fear and he drove on.

The forest was thick but just as Faramir felt lost, the trees parted and revealed a tiny clearing. Rain battered the ground and streamed off the Orcs. They were pushing through the brush with great swords and bows nocked with black arrows.

Faramir caught sight of Haldir's company. By the edge of the glade they stood and tried to stem the horde that seemed not to end. A keen whistle sounded as the Elves released a volley. Orcs fell. Some stood and stumbled, arrows protruding from legs or arms.

More Elves stood to the back of the clearing, some upon the ground. Blood spilled from small wounds and gashes. Others had taken to the trees.

And in that moment Faramir felt his heart ache. Oh that such evil should come to fair Lorien.

"For Gondor!" Boromir cried of a sudden. He launched himself into a mass of growling Orcs and drove his blade through the neck of one. Wrenching his sword free, he took of the arm of another and gutted a third.

A small Orc crept behind him, however and Faramir awoke from his stupor. He raised his sword to hack down upon the creature's head but an Elven arrow flew beneath his arm. The Orc fell dead and Haldir lowered his bow to ready another arrow.

Boromir once more steadied himself and dragged his sword across the chest of an Orc. Faramir swung his blade into the torso of one. Black blood spurted over his hands and he withdrew his blade. But before the Orc had fallen, a cry distracted him.

"Valar! Help! Oh help me please!"

He wheeled about. By the back of the glade an Elf maid was struggling to scale the branches of a tree. An Orc below reached his muscled arm up and tore her down. She hit the ground, rolled over once and struggled to stand. But the Orc was quicker. The creature's hand flew across her face and the maid collapsed. Blood smeared her lips.

Faramir leapt forward. The Orc turned but could not move away. He sunk his blade deep into the beast's side. The Orc howled once, then fell.

"Loose!" Haldir cried. A volley tore through the trees and sliced through the last of the onslaught. Boromir cut down a final Orc and the commotion ceased at once. All was dreadfully still.

Faramir knelt by the fallen maid and lifted her head against his knee. Her eyes fluttered open with a gasp. She pressed her hands to her broken nose and split lip.

"We had no warning," she said. Grasping his hand, she sat upright. "None at all, we had no warning."

"But how is that so Rodwen?" Haldir moved amongst the wounded Elves to stand by her side. "Reports came in throughout the morning."

"I knew not of it," Rodwen sobbed. "A guard spoke with me not two hours past. She said the way was clear for us."

Haldir's gaze suddenly hardened.

"She said the way was clear," Rodwen continued to babble.

Faramir glanced up at Haldir. Their eyes met and at once, they knew.

Aniror.

* * *

Faramir had never seen such a sad being. Lady Galadriel sat before him and her eyes were dark with grief.

His heart broke for her pain.

"I fear a dark day has come to the Golden Wood," she said at length. Her pale hands curved over the arms of her chair, her gown a pool of ivory that spilled over her feet.

Faramir tried to speak but could find no words. Night had come, deep but not dark. The moon rode waves of blue clouds between the stars. The air was mild. Lothlorien stood still.

"Forgive my sorrow," the Lady continued. She stood. "I am happy for what you have done for us. The attack on the borders was no business of yours."

Faramir nodded. "How could we not think to aid those that have done so much for us?"

"You could have left," she said. "And returned to your city."

"I should have never lived with myself then," Faramir replied. "Nor Boromir. So much we owe you, Lady."

"I hope you do not mind this further delay." The Lady turned from him and walked slowly across the chamber. They stood within the greeting hall of her talan. No Elves moved about and for that Faramir was grateful. The afternoon had been a nightmare.

"Of course not," he replied. The Lady paused, her face turned to an open window. For a moment, Faramir felt as though he were intruding upon her private thoughts. The moonlight bathed her and made her face both young and old.

"It was kind of you to help Haldir and his company back to the city," she said. Something tugged at her voice. "I was glad, for I had need to speak with you once more, only once more." The finality of her tone made Faramir's skin prickle.

Another long moment passed. The Lady looked away from the window and at him.

_How great is your pity, Captain?_

Faramir knew the question was not meant to be answered. Not yet, at least.

"Aniror has committed a foul crime," Lady Galadriel said. "A great crime, as it is. She led her kin into danger from which there may have been no escape."

"Yes," Faramir said and nothing more.

"I fear for her and I could weep for her, but no longer can I help her."

"Then what will become of her, Lady?"

Galadriel sighed and walked back to her chair. "No longer may she stay in Lothlorien. Her time here is past. And she will not find refuge with Lord Elrond. Captain Erthor and Rodwen are beloved by him."

"Will she leave these shores then?" Faramir asked. But Galadriel's eyes spoke a different tale. A tremor raced through him.

"No, Captain. She shan't. It is not her time."

_How great is your pity?_

Faramir swallowed. Could she truly be asking this of him? "Then what is to become of her?"

Galadriel smiled softly. "I dare not speak of what my mind whispers. Perhaps she will take to the road as some of our kin have. They wander, homeless, lost. It is a sad fate."

"Do you not think she may deserve it?" Faramir asked. "As a punishment?" Galadriel lowered her eyes and her eyelashes shadowed her glance.

"I speak not of punishment. How can she be punished if she has been misled? Yes, mayhap my heart is kind but I knew Aniror since her birth here in this Wood. There is still an innocence to her, not touched by maliciousness. And I believe she should not be abandoned to torment. But the question must be posed, Faramir. How great is your pity?"

Faramir understood then. His shoulders sagged under the impossible weight of her question and for an instant, he thought to refuse her. But who could rightly refuse the Lady of Light? He needed an excuse.

"She would run from me," he said at last. Galadriel tipped her head to the side and her hair touched her right hip.

"No, I do not think she would. Where could she hope to find shelter? The Men and creatures of this world are not so friendly to Elves as they once were, especially to one of Aniror's manner."

"Then she would waste away, lost to grief," Faramir tried again.

"And why should she be grieved?" Galadriel asked. "She has suffered no great loss that would take the life from her. Erthor she despises and Lothlorien has grown cold to her. Aniror would not succumb to grief."

Faramir sighed and withheld a shudder. The Lady no longer skirted about the matter. He would have to face it. "I cannot take her to Gondor with me."

"I have not asked you to," Galadriel said. "I have only asked how great your pity is for her. If you have none, then you should leave Lorien without a care and think no more on Aniror. But you must ask yourself, shall guilt follow you forevermore?"

"Yes." The answer fell from his lips before he could stop it. Faramir's face flushed, his blood coursing heatedly beneath his skin. Yes, he would feel guilty. Why, he did not know. Why he should pity such a wretch, why he should be so weak…

"It has naught to do with weakness," the Lady said at once and he stared at her. "You are compassionate to one whom you once thought to love. There is no weakness in such."

"I cannot take her with me," he repeated after a moment's silence. "Her presence would be a burden."

"As would your guilt."

Faramir sighed. "Then I am trapped."

Galadriel regarded him with soft eyes. "A man without emotion is free. Would you wish to be careless in every manner? I think not, for an unhappy fate it should be."

"Then what am I to do?" Faramir asked. Impatience touched his voice, along with worry.

He feared the Lady's answer.

"You wish my counsel?"

"Yes, my lady. Yes I do."

Lady Galadriel stood once more and she paced about him. Faramir felt his tension ease, the soft patter of her footsteps lulling his mind into easy thoughts.

"The counsel of the Elves is not given lightly. Many have learned not to turn to us for advice and rightly so. Never do we speak definitively on any matter."

"Then I am lost," Faramir said. The Lady laughed.

"Think not so harshly, dear Captain. I have yet to speak."

She paced for a moment more, then paused. "My sight reaches far and little happens in amongst my people that I do not sense. I shall say this clearly, hindered with no veil or guarded hint. Aniror is your wife."

Faramir turned about to gaze at her and when her eyes met his, he understood.

"By our laws and customs," she continued. "She is your wife. Marriages between your kind and ours are not common. Three there have been betwixt the Eldar and those of the Dunedain. But others there have been between lesser Elves and your kind."

"You wish me to take her to Gondor as my wife?" Faramir asked. "I could not! What should my father think? The people? Aniror loves me not and I care little for her."

"Only you know the riddles of your heart," Galadriel said. "But pause and consider, if you will. Aniror knows she is your wife as well and if she should be cast out upon the road, perhaps her path would lead her to the White City."

Faramir felt his heartbeat quicken. What if Aniror came to Gondor seeking him? What then would he tell his father after the lie had been discovered? And what mischief would Aniror think to stir?

"You have a decision to make, Captain." The Lady stood before him, hands folded. "Aniror could be dangerous as your wife or dangerous as your enemy."

A sigh escaped Faramir along with any hope that he might escape Lorien unchanged. What choice dare he make when both presented him with such peril?

"She must come to Gondor," he said at length. Tears slipped down his cheeks. Galadriel brushed them away with her hand.

"Do not fear," she said. "Your wisdom is not dark and neither shall be your fate. Fear not."

And she turned away, sitting upon her chair like a great queen that has once reigned but now grows old. Her beauty, however, did not fade.

"I will speak with Aniror," the Lady said. "And she will be compliant."

Faramir nodded and bowed. He knew he would receive no further counsel. Without a word, he left the chamber.

* * *

The stairs leading from the Lady's talan were white with the color of moonlight. Faramir walked slowly and listened to the heavy beat of his heart. Had he been just? Or had been weak?

He could not decide and never wished to.

A figure moved on the stair below. Grey cloaked shoulders shook with a shiver. Faramir paused. Aniror sat huddled against the step.

He did not know if she saw him or sensed him in the manner that Elves could. She did not look up, but her voice filtered out into the soft air. He heard her tears.

"I saw myself alone," she said. "But not alone in company. Shadows haunted my steps, haunted my mind. All fell to the darkness. I waited for aid but none came. None wished too. Not even my sister."

"Not alone," Faramir replied. He leaned over her and met her gaze, shielded by tears. "Not alone."

Aniror's face remained impassive, but something invaded her eyes and made her limbs tremble all the more.

"There shall come a time when you will hate me. You will curse the day when you called me wife and brought me forth from exile into Gondor. And then I will come to hate you."

Aniror fell silent. Faramir stiffened for a moment, but then remembered his pity. She spoke with anger, not with thought. And he left her, walking down to the forest floor to meet his brother.

* * *

Boromir was sitting by the stone fountain before the Lady's talan. One hand lay upon his lap, the other upon his sword. Faramir could not help but smile as he watched his brother's eyes droop and shut.

"Awake!" he cried aloud. Boromir was on his feet in an instant.

"Do we leave?" he asked. "But ah, it is night already."

"On the morrow," Faramir replied. He settled himself onto the soft grass and Boromir did the same. "At dawn. But we travel not alone."

Boromir's eyes narrowed. "How then?"

"With Aniror."

"What?" Boromir was on his feet again. Faramir reached up, grabbed his arm and pulled him back down.

"She goes with us."

"Faramir, do not heed her empty promises and guile," Boromir warned. The fear on his face curbed Faramir's smile.

"She has said naught to me."

"Then why? She cannot come to Gondor."

"I fear she must," Faramir said. "No longer is she welcome in Lorien."

"So we must care for her? This is madness!" Boromir's eyes blazed and for a moment, Faramir thought to drop the argument. With a steadying breath, he forced himself to continue on.

"She is my wife."

"By their laws, not ours."

"And what if, by her law, she should come to Gondor and make it known?"

Boromir's jaw tightened. He seemed to chew over the thought. "We would deny it," he said at length.

"She would torment me."

"She will torment you now if you let her."

"Have pity, brother." Faramir laid his hand upon Boromir's shoulder. His brother slumped over, his face grim.

"I have no pity for one such as her."

"Then pity me."

"Your folly?" Boromir was adamant. He shrugged off Faramir's hand and paced. "I will not see you fall into disgrace once more, no. Foul it is that you suffered here in Lorien, but not in Gondor. Not in Gondor."

"She has not bewitched me," Faramir said slowly. His brother's opposition was not unexpected but he had hoped for more understanding. "I act according to my own free will."

"Then I fear you have gone mad."

"Brother, please." Faramir leaned against the fountain, his hand slapping his thigh. "What other course might I take?"

"Leave her here," Boromir replied. His head was down, eyes upon the ground.

"I could not."

"Why?"

Faramir rolled his shoulders to ease away the tension. "I should feel guilty."

"Then you are indeed naïve and foolish. She would have you following her about like a mindless beast, that Elf! Why feel guilt in abandoning her? She is wicked."

"I think not."

Boromir's lifted his gaze and stared at his brother. "Faramir…"

"I do not think her wicked," Faramir said. "I think her misled. None too wise and wounded perhaps. But she is broken now and can do us no harm."

"But why help her?" Boromir asked. His voice cracked and something other than the starlight shone in his eyes.

"Because it is just and right. And do not think that I was not skeptical at the first. Yet I have thought the matter over and my pity is too great to ignore."

Boromir shook his head. "I see no wisdom in this."

"Then I swear to you, that if she proves to be trouble, I will send her away." Faramir watched a slow change come over his brother. Boromir raised his chin, his stance becoming proud and challenging.

"You swear to it?"

"Upon my love for you," Faramir said, then added. "And for mother."

Boromir placed his hands on his hips and walked once about the fountain. Faramir knew not to disturb his thoughts.

"Very well," Boromir said. He came to sit once more beside his younger brother. "We have much yet to consider though."

"Yes." Faramir let his smile return. Unlike Aniror, he knew his sibling would never think to abandon him.

Boromir planted his chin in the palm of his hand with an exaggerated sigh. "And what shall we think to tell father?"

* * *

It was a bright dawn though Faeleth wished it would rain. Her tears would be shielded then and the world would weep along with her as she watched her sister depart. Oh Valar, why had it come to this?

She stood with Haldir upon the balcony of their talan. Below on the forest floor, Aniror sat with Boromir and Faramir. They would leave the Wood before the hour had passed.

Her heart broke at the mere thought.

"I cannot go," Faeleth whispered and crushed her face into her husband's chest. Tears leaked onto the fabric of his tunic but she made no effort to stop them.

"You must say farewell to your sister," Haldir said gently. He tugged her hair with his fingers. "It is expected."

"Aniror does not wish to see me."

Haldir sighed and Faeleth felt his chest heave beneath her forehead. "She is mad now, but not for long. I know she will wish to see her sister."

Faeleth nibbled upon her quivering bottom lip. "There is nothing I may say to her."

"Then there is nothing to say her. Such words are empty."

Why was Aniror so reckless, so selfish, so cunning? And why was she Faeleth's sister, her caring, brilliant and joyful sister?

There would be no painful parting then if she did not love her sister. No tears and sorrow that rose up against her like a great wave, smothering and unstoppable. Faeleth did not want to wish Aniror farewell.

"Ada? Naneth?" Pelilas' voice reached her ears and at once she tore away from her husband, drying her tears.

Their son stood just inside the talan, a frown pulling at his lips and plump cheeks.

"What is it, little one?" Haldir asked. Faeleth could not master her voice.

Pelilas did not answer at once. Instead he walked out onto the balcony and leaned over the railing. His short arms dangled over the wooden rail.

"I visited with him," he said. His voice was deeper, Faeleth thought and heavy with an understanding that came with age.

She stepped forward, her hand coming to rest on his head.

"With whom?" Haldir asked but Faeleth already knew. She gazed down at Faramir standing below. His face was young and keen with the first light of dawn.

"I told him to take care of Aunt Aniror," Pelilas continued. "He promised he would. Do you think he will?" Here he paused and stared at his mother. Faeleth found a smile for her son.

"Yes, I think he will." She took Pelilas' little hand in his and led him back into the talan.

"Where do you go?" Haldir asked after them.

Faeleth paused and turned. "To say farewell."

**The End

* * *

**

**Author's Note: **Whew! That was the longest fanfic I have ever written! Again, I would like to thank everyone for reading. Please, take the time to review and share your thoughts with me. The sequel, **The Price of Pity**, will be up on Saturday and I'll give you a little sneak preview of it if you are interested. It is Faramir-centric of course and Aniror is still a main character (sort of) along with Eowyn. Yes, dear Eowyn. It is actually a Faramir/Eowyn pairing and thus a bit more canon-friendly than this story was. However, it is drastically different than "Wounded" and a tragedy, so expect tons of angst!

Thanks again everyone!


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